Forever Entwined
by cdraco
Summary: The war is over, & things are not as Harry expects, his relationship with Ginny is fractured, his future uncertain and his search for normalcy leads him to Draco Malfoy , for they are bound together by a red string of fate. EWE 8th yr. Harry/Draco slash
1. Chapter 1

**Author: ** **chibidraco**  
**Beta:** **noscrubs12345***  
**Title**: Forever Entwined  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 3,932  
**Warnings: **Some Harry x Ginny (non-explicit) , hurt/comfort  
**Summary: **The war is over, and things are not as Harry expects, his relationship with Ginny is fractured, his future uncertain and his search for normalcy leads him to Draco Malfoy , for they are bound together by a red string of fate. (HBP and DH complaint, EWE "Eight Year")

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance.  
The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break." - an ancient Chinese belief

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all related characters do not belong to me.

For **emeraldpanther** who asked for a story about the "red thread of fate" , and thanks to **olimakiella** , both of you really helped me iron out an idea that just keeps growing.

* * *

Summer should have been a time of for relaxation, visiting the tropics with the largest of your worries amounting to whether or not you've brought enough sunscreen. Since Harry could remember, not one summer in his eighteen years had ever been a pleasant one; he really shouldn't be surprised this one wasn't any different.

It was kind of disappointing how beautiful the weather had been, not a cloud in sight for days. London provided the optimal weather for many a holidaymaker, but not for them. The sun, bright and warm, in the sky did nothing to warm the people attending the funerals, and only served to make the black mourning robes that much more uncomfortable and stuffy. Tears flow, handkerchiefs are put to use and everyone tries to remember the happiness the guests of honour in their velvet lined coffins had brought to their lives before this final goodbye.

Harry is not surprised when George attends his brother's funeral in bright maroon slacks and a yellow jumper with its crimson "F" square in the middle of his chest. The bandage from his recuperating ear is gone, but so is his smile. What makes him stand out in the sea of black is not so much the extravagant colours but the notable absence beside him.

Harry attended as many funerals as he could, saying goodbye to friends, allies and even a couple of people he barely knew. He spent a long time reassuring Hermione he was not doing it to punish himself out of some misguided belief he should have saved them all. Although, when he stands in the back row at Snape's burial, he does wonder if there was something more he could have done for the man. He should have met a better end than the floor of the Shrieking Shack, though he thinks Sirius would have enjoyed the irony.

It's taken him until this point to gain a better understanding of the man. He would never be able to think of Snape as just the greasy git who'd made his life impossible without remembering the love he had carried for Lily until his death. They were all victims of circumstance, some of their own creation and others they fell destined to. The last funeral of the summer belonged to Remus and Tonks, the coffins set side by side at a sombre altar. It's regrettable this was the only part of their vows their friends were able to experience. The war had not allowed for an extravagant wedding with all of their friends in attendance; the promises to 'til death do us part had been witnessed only by those performing the ceremony.

He spots Andromeda at the front pew, and, cuddled in her arms, he can see Teddy's golden brown hair and is glad the baby is dressed in a simple white robe. He knows Andromeda had struggled with the decision on whether or not to bring him to the funeral. Knows because she had called upon him just the night before to ask his opinion.

"Would you have wanted to attend your parents' funeral?" she had whispered into the night, standing on his stoop clutching Teddy's carrier in her arm.

Then she had started to cry, her tears drowning out her fervent apologies. Harry was paralysed for a moment, the question barely formulated in his mind before it dropped heavily in his heart. He gently took the carrier holding a slumbering Teddy, who had not woken even with his grandmother's gasping cries. Harry took her elbow gently in his other hand, guiding her into what had been her childhood home.

He offered her a seat on the sofa he'd purchased once he began inhabiting Grimmauld Place. Kreacher was already in bed, and he didn't bother calling for him as he made the chamomile tea himself.

He returned to see Andromeda deflated in the corner of the sofa. Teddy was still resting in his carrier, small fists pressed against his face. He held out the mug and waited for her to drink before taking a seat beside them.

"I wouldn't remember even if I had, so I don't think it really matters. It's the other things that we wish we could have experienced. Hearing their voices, having them there..." Harry took a deep breath.

Andromeda just nodded, eyes watering once more. He waved off her apologies and awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. With her eyes red rimmed and glassy and her dark curly hair pulled up in a loose bun she looked younger than her years.

"Sometimes I look in the mirror and I think I can see her, and I still cannot understand why she would take my daughter." It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her Bellatrix had been a crazy murderous bitch and that it would never make sense, but he held back because he knew the emotions were still too fresh for him to start falling apart too.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm the adult, and I should not be resting my sorrows on your shoulders." She wiped her face of her tears and straightened her back.

"It's okay," Harry murmured, smoothing Teddy's blanket where he rested between them. The woman had lost her husband, daughter and son-in-law in the span of months. It was no wonder she was so emotional.

They drank their tea in silence, each of them watching the rise and fall of Teddy's chest, lost in their own thoughts.

"I'm going to go," she announced, lightly patting him on the knee and rising to her feet. "I've bothered you enough."

Now, at her daughter's funeral, she seemed to have recovered, like the frail woman from the night before had never existed. It didn't matter, though. It did nothing to change his mind.

This little boy was just like him: He'd lost both his parents at an early age. He was entrusted to someone to care for him, raise him, and love him in their stead, and he had the responsibility as his godfather to do so. He had been unable to enjoy his own godfather, but he would be the best he could be for Teddy.

Towards the end of the service, he holds onto the baby while Andromeda accepts the condolences from friends. He's rocking him side to side, more for something to do then to actually soothe. Teddy is calm and seems content to suckle on his fists.

"Haven't seen much of you lately." He looks up from wiping some of the excess drool off Teddy's chubby chin and takes in his ex-girlfriend standing beside him. The light behind her sets her red strands ablaze, and she paints a pretty picture in her simple black robes and minimal makeup. She never wore much makeup anyway, only a strawberry flavoured lip gloss he could remember enjoying the taste of when they kissed.

"I've been busy," he replies quietly.

"It's been three weeks." Her tone is even, but he can see from the pursing of her mouth she's unhappy about that fact.

Had it been three weeks? Was that how long this parade of funerals had been going on?

"I thought we would get back together once all of this was over."

Harry shrugs. So had he. He's unable to look at her while he thinks of what to reply, of how to explain. What is he going to explain? He hasn't put much thought into their relationship...or the lack of one. He'd been busy grieving, feeling relieved she and most of their family and friends had managed to survive. As his gaze spans the horizon, his eyes jerk back to where he spotted white blond hair.

Malfoy? What was he doing here?

Draco Malfoy was dressed in dark dress robes that hung off of him; it seemed he had yet to gain back any of the weight he'd lost during seventh year. His mother was beside him, and Harry craned his neck to look if Lucius had dared to show his face, but he was nowhere in sight. While he had come to a somewhat cordial agreement with Narcissa and even Draco to some extent after testifying in their trials, he held nothing for the Malfoy patriarch except residual anger.

He wondered what they were talking about. Both Malfoys hung on the outskirts of the funeral, drawing Andromeda to them instead of getting closer. He watched Andromeda and Narcissa share a hug, and he could see the two women whispering to each other, Malfoy hanging uncertainty in the background with his hands tucked into his pockets. He looked out of place and a little shocked when his aunt grabbed him in an embrace. That's right. They were related to each other; technically Draco was Teddy's great cousin or something. It was funny how they had forgot their familial connections when they were trying to kill each other.

"Harry?" He swung back to look at Ginny. How had he forgotten that she was there?

"So," she prompted. "We've barely said a word to each other during this whole time, and you haven't come to see me or to talk to me. Are we getting back together?" She took a seat beside him, tucking her hands under her thighs.

"I don't know." Harry couldn't explain it. She was right there, and nothing was preventing them from being together, but he couldn't say yes.

"I'm sorry. It's just...I have a lot to think about now, and I-I need time," he tried to explain, trying to sooth the anger and hurt that crossed her face.

"You don't love me anymore?" Her face has grown pale with her question. Not as pale as he'd noticed Malfoy's though; he wondered if perhaps he was ill.

"I care for you. I always have," he answers. He had never said he loved her, wasn't sure if that's what he felt. Now, after the horror of war, he was left feeling depleted and uncertain.

"You said being with me was like a dream."

She was right. He had and it had been. The perfect kind of dream that meant family and belonging.

She let out a gust of breath from between clenched teeth, and for a moment he was worried that the famous Weasley temper would flare and she would cause a scene. He adjusted Teddy in his arms and moved him closer to his right side, away from Ginny.

"I don't understand what there is to think about. You wanted to be with me as much as I did you." She stood up from the seat quickly. "But if you need to time to think, all I can really do is wait.

"But I thought you were done making me wait, Harry," Ginny lightly accused, turning to leave. He could see Ron looking at them in concern and Hermione whispering furiously to her boyfriend in the distance.

"Ginny, wait. You're right. I'm sorry." He didn't get up because he still carried Teddy, but he patted the seat next to him. She slowly sat back down, bringing her knees closer until they touched his own.

He took her hand in his, smiling at the feel of her slight calluses rubbing against his larger ones. He had been so proud to see her take to the skies and play on the same team as him. She always had been one of the guys, tough and confident with a softer side that had become all too apparent when she had begun dating. He could recall the jealousy her suitors had drawn from him, but it had been so much simpler then. His reasons for breaking up with her were gone, though, and she was right to ask why he hadn't approached her. What was stopping him?

"I guess I'm just slow to recover from all this. Of course I want to be with you. Let's just take this slow, yeah?" he proposes.

He accepts her hug and tries to avoid squishing the baby between them, wondering why he doesn't feel any less lost. But Ron and Hermione are smiling again, so there is that.

When Andromeda comes to bring Teddy's bottle, he almost asks her where Malfoy went.

X x x X x x X

There was something about taking care of a small infant's every need that served to distract from his own helplessness.

He'd learned a lot these past two months: changing nappies, carefully bathing him and giving him his bottle. Doubts about his relationship with Ginny, his undecided career path...all of these worries were swept away with the singlehanded determination to be there for Teddy.

"Harry, you don't have to come here every day. You should be out spending time with your friends," Andromeda commented, taking the empty bottle from his hand.

"We do spend time together," he mumbled.

He did, just yesterday. They'd gone shopping in Diagon Alley. Ron and he had admired the Quidditch equipment in Quality Quidditch Supplies's window, joined later by Ginny, who'd accompanied Hermione to the apothecary.

Later, they'd played a round of Quidditch at the Burrow, and even Hermione had added her questionable skills to their friendly match. Ron enjoyed teasing his girlfriend about one of the things she never managed to excel at. He'd enjoyed himself until the pairs separated for some couple time and awkwardness set in between him and his girlfriend. He wondered where the chest monster who'd demanded attention in fifth year was, and why he wasn't raging at the unfairness of the distance between him and Ginny.

"Harry, I'm sorry for worrying you." Andromeda's apology brought him back from his wondering.

"But I'm okay, honestly. I know you're going to be there for me and Teddy." Her wide smile was so very much like her late daughter's carefree grins. "Even Cissy has been around more. I guess I have to be grateful for getting my sister back and gaining a nephew."

"Does Malfoy come too?" he asked curiously.

"Draco? Yes, he does. He's terrified of Teddy, though." Andromeda laughed. "He's fine if Teddy's sleeping, but the moment he wiggles about he treats him like a cauldron that's about to explode."

"He takes care of Teddy?" Harry couldn't imagine him taking care of a baby. "Is he good to him?" he couldn't help but ask. He didn't think Malfoy would hurt him, per se, but old habits died hard.

"Of course he is, Harry. He watches him while his mother and I talk. Then he interrupts every few minutes or so to ask us questions and make sure that what Teddy is doing is normal." She laughed again, piquing Harry's curiosity about his godson's time with Draco.

"And he doesn't complain?" As much as he loved Teddy, he'd come to learn himself the work involved in caring for an infant.

"Not one protest. He doesn't say too much of anything, actually. He's a very quiet young man."

"Wasn't always," he muttered, but didn't bother elaborating when she looked at him in question.

"It's not that I don't appreciate you, but please just don't forget to enjoy your life." Andromeda patted him lightly on his shoulder.

"I'm not," he answered briefly. He concentrated on the loose string on one of Teddy's socks.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted their conversation, much to Harry's relief. Andromeda excused herself to get the door and returned a bit later with Hermione in tow.

"Hello, Harry. I thought I'd find you here." Hermione smiled.

"I'm going to put him down for his nap. You two should go out," Andromeda urged, coming over to collect her grandson from his arms.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised, getting up and stretching his legs.

"Only if you want to. Now go have fun." Andromeda smiled, allowing him a moment to say good-bye to Teddy.

They left the house, Hermione descending the stairs as Harry closed the door quietly behind him, slipping his hands into his jeans and skipping down the steps to meet her.

"Weren't we supposed to meet up at the Burrow at three?" Harry didn't think it had become that late; he'd left his house at ten, and he'd only been here an hour or so.

"I thought we'd spend some time together first so we can talk away from everyone. Do you want to go for a walk?" Hermione asked, pointing in the direction of a nearby park.

"Sure?" Harry could feel all kinds of alarms going off in his head. That was as close to "we need to talk" as it got, and coming from Hermione it could be about any multitude of things she'd been cataloguing in her head until the moment she decided to get it all off her chest.

The walk to the park was brief, but it felt like it took an eternity for Hermione to start talking. They had just made it through the wrought iron gates before she asked him, "Have you changed your mind about coming with us?"

"I don't really see a point, 'Mione." It was a relief this was the subject she was broaching. He'd already received his letter from Professor McGonagall inviting him to attend an "eighth year" at Hogwarts.

"There is always a purpose to getting an education, and it's a chance to do our last school year properly." He pulled on her arm gently, drawing her closer to avoid a child running by on the walkway.

"What? With tests and homework?" He could already imagine her virtually salivating at all the school work she would take on and excel at.

"Of course, and we'd take our N.E.W.T.S..." She stopped a moment, probably realising she wasn't making the suggestion less appealing than more so.

"Neville and Luna are coming back, too. We will have a chance to be together again without the madness of last year. One year, Harry, where you would just worry about turning in assignments, which if you did them on time you wouldn't have so many problems with," she finished softly. "I think you could have fun." He took in her rushed reasoning while he moved both of them off the path to stand by an unoccupied bench when a woman pushing a pram drew closer.

It was very tempting to imagine a school year without the overwhelming oppression brought on by fanatics disguised as teachers, plots with diaries, Triwizard championships, and bloody vanishing cabinets. Luna and Neville were returning, and he was filled with anticipation about seeing his friends, but he also thought about those who wouldn't be coming back.

But Hogwarts had always been home to him, and a part of him yearned to jump onto it's moving staircases, eat his meals under the enchanted sky, and just enjoy it all before saying goodbye one final time. Maybe it would be best to build new memories in the school as the ones he carried now were of crumbling walls and scorched grounds that had fallen victim to the dangerous hexes that had flown about.

"You do that a lot now." He realised she'd taken a seat on the bench, and took a seat beside her.

"Do what?"

"Get lost in your thoughts like that," Hermione elaborated, leaning forward in concern.

"I am capable of thought, Hermione," he teased, watching her face flush. "Haven't you always said I should think before I act?"

"I know you can think, Harry," she replied, pinching him lightly, "and I'm glad you're thinking, but you're not telling anyone what's on your mind.

"And knowing you're refusing to return with us...What are you going to do alone while we're all at school?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Take care of Teddy?"

"I know you want to help, but you can't just devote your life to Teddy. You need to do something for yourself." His friend twisted her hands in her lap.

"Maybe I'll take up painting murals with Kreacher." He'd spoken sarcastically, but the elf really was in the process of re-painting the entirety of Grimmauld Place.

His friend let out an exasperated sigh. "Harry, we're worried about you. All of us are, especially Ginny." She had the same look on her face as she did when she knew she shouldn't meddle but was about to do it anyway.

"She feels like your pushing her away, behaving like she's a stranger."

"Nice. Gossiping about me again are you?" Why couldn't people talk to him directly instead of behind his back as if he was too sensitive to handle his own problems?

"That's not fair, Harry. We're not gossiping. She's confiding in me because she's concerned about you. When was the last time you two went out without me and Ron? You barely see her."

"I'm at the Burrow every weekend. Kind of hard not to see her seeing how she lives there," Harry contradicted, trying to hold on to his temper.

"When you're there, you spend time with all the family. Then when you have time to yourself, you're rushing back home." She made this observation softly.

"I need to fix it up; you've seen the conditions." She should have been aware of just how dilapidated everything was and all the repairs that had to be done.

"I know, Harry, but let her help you. She's offered to stay over and help, but you always say no."

"I don't think Molly would approve of her sleeping over at my place, do you?"

"Maybe not spend the night, but I think you should spend more time with her. She's confused why you're acting this way."

"I asked her to give me time. I don't know why I'm feeling this way. I see her and I want to hold her hand and kiss her, but it feels so different.

"I've never been in a proper relationship before. It's kind of hard to when you have a madman trying to kill you." He laughed humourlessly, watching a father holding onto his son's training broom.

"Can you understand that? Can she? I'm not trying to be hurtful, Hermione. Maybe it's post traumatic stress?" He didn't really think that, and he hurried to recant his words. All he needed was everyone crowding him, placing him on suicide watch or something.

"I understand, Harry. You're just feeling lost." She curled a thin arm around his shoulders and drew him close until he rested his head on her shoulder.

"But please don't shut yourself away. Come back to Hogwarts with us. Let us be there while you work yourself out of this rut. We've been through so much together. We're not about to abandon you now. And how can you really give your relationship a chance unless you're near enough to Ginny to actually try?" Hermione pleaded, squeezing him a little.

He admitted to himself that her request was not so unreasonable. He knew he was meant to marry Ginny. He and Ron would be brothers and they would have a family. Like Hermione said, he just needed to get out of of this rut. He would still be there for Teddy, but he needed to keep moving, just like every other survivor was trying to do.

"All right."

They almost fell off the bench because of her fierce hug, but he managed to steady them in time.

"We should go and pick up your books before we go to the Burrow." She virtually wiggled in place, and, seeing how happy it made her, he could not regret his decision.

X x x X x x X

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author: ** **chibidraco**  
**Beta:** **noscrubs12345***  
**Title**: Forever Entwined Chapter 2  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 4,269

AN: Thank you to all that reviewed, hope you enjoy the update.

* * *

It was the night of August thirty-first. The new term began the next morning, but while Ron and Hermione slept upstairs, Harry wandered about downstairs unable to sleep. Since his conversation with Hermione at the end of June he'd split his time more evenly between taking care of Teddy, fixing up Grimmauld Place and spending more time with the Weaselys. Andromeda was in better spirits; it seemed the visits of her once estranged family was helping greatly. Harry had, on occasion, even ran into Draco when he visited. They didn't speak to each other, though. The only moment he heard his voice was when he spoke to Teddy.

His birthday had been as pleasant as it could have been. The wounds were still too fresh from the loss of Fred. The Weasely household was not like it had been, but they'd done their best to put on their happiest faces and wish him a happy eighteenth birthday.

Ginny and he were spending more time together, and the comfort was beginning to trickle back into their dynamic. Ginny seemed happier now they had begun to date again, and he was relieved he was no longer an additional burden thrown on top of her grief for her brother.

Harry paced in front of the fireplace, full of nervous energy. Ron and Hermione had shown up at his door that morning all ready to go with their shrunken trunks in their pockets. Hermione's smile had been wide, and her enthusiasm had been contagious enough the boys caught on, temporarily forgetting the coursework and assignments they would be taking on.

Kreacher prepared dinner, ignoring Hermione's request he dine with them. Ron and Harry played Exploding Snap while Hermione read over the texts that were sure to be covered months into the term. It had felt good to wonder aloud with Ron about how school would be and watch Hermione study so devotedly. It felt normal.

"Master should be sleeping." Harry jumped at the sound of Kreacher's voice.

"Oh, I can't sleep," Harry explained. The elderly elf looked a lot better wearing the clean pillow case Harry had left around for him to change into. Harry could see the chain of his treasured locket disappearing into the makeshift collar.

"Milk." Kreacher conjured a glass and handed it to Harry imperiously, making it clear it was not a suggestion.

Harry took the warm glass, tracing his finger along the rim before deciding not to argue and drank it in one gulp under the house elf's watchful eye. Since the Battle for Hogwarts, Kreacher seemed to have become more and more protective of Harry while still retaining the attitude that had gone from blatantly disrespectful to cheeky. He'd even given him ladybirds for his birthday, which was definitely a step up from the maggots the previous Christmas.

"Off to bed," Kreacher ordered, taking back the empty glass.

"Fine, fine," Harry agreed, backing up to leave the living room. "Weren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts already?"

"I will go when Master is there." the elf declared, lifting his chin.

"Goodnight, Kreacher." Harry waved a little.

"Night, Master," the elf said, and then he was gone.

Harry surprised himself with a wide yawn and tried to clear his suddenly blurry eyes; it seemed the milk really had begun to work its magic. He walked up the steps, deftly avoiding the squeakier ones so he wouldn't disturb his friends. Once his head hit his pillow, the call of sleep overwhelmed his body. His last thought was if Kreacher had added a little something to his drink.

* * *

"Harry."

He opened his eyes, but his vision was blurry. He felt someone place his missing glasses into his hand. When the world was clear again, he could see Hermione and Ron had risen from their seats.

"We're here." Ginny smiled, pulling away from where she was leaning over him. He must have fallen asleep as soon as they left the station because he could not remember anything past getting settled in.

Ron had managed to get a private car for them, and Hermione had blacked out the glass to thwart those who'd come to gawk at the Boy Who Lived.

"Oh, thanks." He stretched, rolling his shoulders back to work out some of the kinks and followed them out of the car. He had to shoulder past the staring first years, who were seeing him for the very first time, their eyes wide with curiosity.

"You think McGonagall would let me skip the Sorting feast?" He moved closer to the wall opposite the entrances of each car.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know, mate. Why?"

"So I can avoid this." He jerked his head at a group of girls who were wobbling back and forth, trying to look past Ron and catch sight of Harry.

He smiled gratefully at Ginny, whose glare caused them to turn around and pretend to talk to one another.

"I don't think so, Harry. She'll probably say that you're putting off the inevitable," Hermione predicted, balancing her school bag while she tucked the book she'd read on the train inside. "You'll have to face them in the morning for breakfast anyway, and every meal afterward."

"Maybe Kreacher can bring my food to our room," Harry suggested. Or he could always eat in the kitchens with the elves.

"Oi! Could he do that for me too?" Ron piped in with excitement.

"I'll ask him, but I'm sure he won't mind," Harry assured his friend.

"I always did like that elf," Ron murmured, rubbing his hands as he imaged the delicious meals he could enjoy from the privacy of their dorm without having to wake up early.

"So now you like him?" Ginny teased her brother.

"He's grown on me. He takes care of Harry, and if he wants to bring us food who are we to deny him?" he asked his sister, completely serious.

"Kreacher is employed by the school during the term, and you will not be making him work extra. Especially not to satisfy your gluttony, Ronald." He dodged behind Harry to avoid Hermione's glare.

"Besides, you're not going to eat in your rooms alone or with Ron. You'll eat with all of us," Ginny gently instructed Harry, taking his hand in hers.

"All right." Harry gave her a small smile and her hand a small squeeze then pulled away to better manoeuvre through the crowd exiting the train.

"Harry!" He barely got the warning before he was swept up in a hug. The wiry beard his face was currently being pushed into and the sensation of his feet leaving the ground made the identity of his mysterious hugger obvious.

"You can let me down now, Hagrid," Harry requested after returning the embrace as well as he could considering the half-giant's size.

"It's good to see you! I thought you weren't coming. I asked Professor-I mean, Headmistress-McGonagall, but she said you weren't." Harry ignored the great amount of looks their reunion had gathered.

"Hermione convinced me." He threw a look at his friend.

"I have to go see to the first years, but you'll come by for tea?" Harry nodded and the half-giant gave him one last pat on the shoulder that jerked him forward a bit with its force.

They joined the older students at the thestral drawn carriages, trying to get an unoccupied one. Harry immediately spotted Draco, who was accompanied by a small group of Slytherins-Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, a much thinner Gregory Goyle and a small blonde girl he didn't recognise-shuffle into a carriage. It seemed Andromeda and Narcissa had managed to convince the blond to attend; he'd caught snippets of a fire-call conversation between the two women one afternoon he visited.

It seemed Draco wasn't immune to the well meaning females in his life, either.

He could see Luna stroking the neck of a thestral as his group approached a carriage. She looked good. Her radish earrings and bottle cap necklace were all in place as was her dreamy smile. He liked that. She was always a constant. Who knew what emotions flowed under her placid exterior? On the outside, she was always the same whimsical girl, whether she was off on some tangent about creatures only she could see in class or comforting an old man while being imprisoned in a dungeon.

"Luna!" he called to her as they drew near.

"Hello, Harry"

He motioned for his friends to go ahead and board the carriage after they all greeted the Ravenclaw.

Her silvery eyes seemed to look too deeply into him, seeing past the small smile he gave her. He joined her in giving the thestral a pat while he waited for her to comment. He preferred to be alone for any perceptive revelation she may have of him.

"We'll be Seventh Years together. I think that's nice." His smile grew bigger. It seemed she wasn't going to press or poke like most of his friends had.

"I almost feel like I'm too old to be here," Harry offered, not understanding why he confided that to her or if he really meant he felt out of place with all the innocent first years. Luna nodded, gently repositioning his fingers until he was lightly scratching the horse's neck instead of just patting it.

"There is still much you have to do here," Luna offered vaguely. "They're starting to leave." She pointed to where the first lines of carriages were beginning to move. He followed her into the carriage, taking the seat they saved for him between Ginny and the window.

His girlfriend slipped her hand into his just as he was resting his head on the window. Watching the procession of black winged horses moving toward the school, he thought of the time when he and Luna had been one of the very few to see the thestrals. He wondered how many more students could see them now.

* * *

The eyes on him continued to grow with every step he took into the Great Hall, more and more faces turning to the entrance to see the new arrivals. Most of them had already seen him on the platform or on the train, but they took this moment to stare at him to their hearts' content. His eyes closed with horror when the clapping began. He hurried to the Gryffindor table and grabbed a seat on the corner of the bench facing the Slytherin table next to an already seated Neville. The rest of the group settled across from them.

"It's good to see you." Neville leaned in to be heard above the din of the crowd.

"You too." It was. They'd exchanged gifts on their shared birthday and corresponded beforehand, but it was good to see him in the flesh. He looked confident, having finally grown into himself. Harry almost asked him how long he thought it would take him to attain the same accomplishment.

"They're clapping for you." Neville motioned with his head.

"For _us_," Harry corrected. "I wish they would stop." Neville smiled sympathetically, patting him on his shoulder.

A quick glance showed that even the eighth year Slytherins were clapping, although the speed of the striking hands told Harry there was little sound actually being created. Malfoy was not clapping, but inclined his head at him slightly when their eyes met. Strangely, it made him feel better that Malfoy was not joining in with the rest of the school.

The celebrations following the war had always been strange for him. Of course he was happy it was all over, proud of his friends and colleagues who had fought beside him, but, ultimately, he wished there had never been a need for any of them to prove themselves. What made it worse was that people saw him as the figurehead for their victory, and he could say with certainty he did not look forward to spending the rest of his life being stared at with awe.

"I know we are all relieved that we can look forward to a world free of war and that we owe _all_ our heroes a great many thanks, but please remember this is an institution of learning," Headmistress McGonagall announced from the front of the hall. Mercifully, the clapping stopped the moment she began to speak and everyone centred their attention on her.

"We are here to prepare you to enter this free world. Make no mistake that your role as a student takes precedence over any house alliance." Her stern gaze began in one side of the room and spanned across it as if she were trying to communicate with each and every one of them. She must have been satisfied with what she saw because she smiled before announcing, "Now, let's welcome our first years."

They filed in behind Professor Flitwick, and, even behind the diminutive professor, they still looked so small to Harry. Their expressions ranged from excitement to nervousness, turning into amazement at their first sight of the enchanted ceiling and the floating candles. Harry smiled a bit. Although it may be too late to wipe the darkness that had touched them for living through a war, they prevented the future generations from suffering the same. Perhaps that was reason enough to celebrate.

When the Sorting Hat was brought out, it seemed the same as always. It still looked worn from its many years of service, but there was no sight of damage from its burning at the Battle for Hogwarts. It was a relief that it had survived its attempted destruction at the hands of Voldemort. A small victory.

The further the Sorting Hat got into its song, Harry began to have a feeling of déjà vu; he knew he'd heard those words before.

"Does that sound familiar?" he asked aloud to no one in particular.

It was no surprise Hermione was the one who answered him. "It's the same song he sang at the beginning of fifth year."

"I thought he came up with a new one every year?" Ron asked.

"He probably thought this one was worth repeating," his girlfriend replied, nudging him to listen.

Harry looked down at the table, paying close attention to the last verses:

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfil my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you...

Let the Sorting now begin.

His first instinct was to look at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was concentrating deeply on the table in front of him. It had been a warning they had failed to yield. A year later Malfoy was neck deep plotting for Voldemort, they had lost Dumbledore and Hogwarts as they knew it had changed.

Flitwick began reading off his list, and one by one the children were sorted and joined their respective tables. When the first Slytherin was chosen, there was a smattering of clapping from the rest of the tables. McGonagall started to clap quite deliberately until a more enthusiastic welcome was heard from the rest of the school. Neville joined in and Harry followed, ignoring Ron's incredulous look and even Hermione's kind smile.

He found himself remembering an afternoon with Andromeda. During one of the hotter days of summer, she'd stood up during lunch and announced she had had enough of the heat and was going to turn on the air conditioning. Having been married to a Muggleborn, there were a lot of Muggle items in her home, and Harry had not been surprised she owned one. What took him by surprise was what she said afterwards.

"I guess those years of living in the dungeons left me with a poor tolerance to heat." She'd shrugged and gone off into the hallway for the thermostat.

He'd forgotten she was a former Slytherin. He must have never payed it any attention, but she _was_ a Black and all Blacks except for Sirius were known for going into Slytherin. He thought of her gentle way of taking care of her grandson, the way she used all at her disposal to make his life the best it could be. Of Slughorn's actions of bringing help instead of running away during the Battle for Hogwarts and Snape's bravery as a double agent for so long.

How could house affiliation tell you everything about a person?

"Harry?" Ginny called to him breaking his musing.

"Yeah?" The scent of hot food filled his nostrils, and he found that his meal had appeared before him. The Sorting must have finished while he wasn't paying attention.

"You should eat before Ron reaches over and gobbles down your plate, too." Harry looked to Ron, who was enthusiastically wolfing down his meal, stopping only to refresh himself with drink.

"Wot?" the redhead asked, presenting them a clear view of his partly masticated food.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ron." Hermione grimaced at her boyfriend's messiness.

"You should eat. Professor McGonagall wants all the eighth years to meet in her office after the feast," Neville informed him.

"Okay." Just what else had he missed? "Did she say what about?"

"No," Neville shrugged apologetically.

Harry nodded and thanked him, starting in on his dinner. His eyes narrowed when he saw one particular beverage near his plate. A quick inspection of his house mates' plates confirmed he was the only one with this addition.

Warm milk.

He pushed it aside a little and was surprised to see it creep back. He pushed it again, closer to Neville, but an invisible pressure pushed back against him until the liquid was sloshing too close to the rim of the goblet. To avoid spilling it on Neville's plate, he gradually stopped resisting.

"I'll drink it before going to bed," he muttered into his plate, content to see the glass vanish.

"Where you talking to your food, mate?" Ron asked. His friend's forkful of chicken halted by his mouth.

"No," Harry denied.

"O-Kay." Ron stuffed the food in his mouth, watching him oddly.

Harry laughed. "I was talking to Kreacher. He was trying to make me drink milk."

"At least I know you're being taken care of in your house since I can't see for myself," Ginny commented without heat from across the table.

Harry's lingering smile faded and he could only nod. Once she turned her attention back to eating, he glanced at the head table, taking in the missing professors and their unfamiliar replacements.

What could McGonagall have to talk to them about?

* * *

Harry's group was joined by Parvati, Seamus and Dean, and when they arrived outside the headmistress's office, the Slytherins were already there. Malfoy was a little apart from the group, leaning against the wall. The stance did not resemble a lounge, but rather a deliberate move to cover his back.

Harry had no idea why that reasoning occurred to him, but he was almost positive that was the case. Neither group said anything to each other, but waited on their opposite sides of the wall, eying each other.

"I apologise for the wait." McGonagall appeared around the bend, swiftly moving to the statue of the gargoyle and whispering, "Jelly slug".

As silly as it would have been to explain, it pleased Harry that the stern woman would use such a frivolous password as Albus would have. Jelly slugs were probably a lot better than whatever passwords were used while Snape was headmaster anyway.

Harry went first, followed by his friends. Ron was turning his neck back, watching the Slytherins like they would attack him. As if they would be foolish enough to try anything in front of the headmistress herself.

The group stepped into the office off the revolving staircase. It looked the same except for some very meaningful additions and subtractions. The sword of Gryffindor was back next to the Sorting Hat, but Fawkes's golden perch was gone and Dumbledore's portrait hung behind the desk.

Dumbledore was awake, and he smiled widely when he saw them, waving at Harry. He waved back. How many times had he wished he could have seen the man during the year before?

The Gryffindors returned his waves. Harry noted that Draco didn't; the Slytherin looked anywhere but the portrait directly in front of him.

The Slytherins took their seats wordlessly and the rest of them followed. There were eleven chairs assembled in two small rows. It was when Harry noticed each chair provided was occupied that he thought to ask, "Is this everyone?"

Heads turned and came to the same conclusion Harry had.

McGonagall came to stand in front of her desk, spine ramrod straight, hands together.

"Yes, unfortunately, this is the entirety of the eighth form. It's actually why I've called you all to my office. I ask that you listen to all I have to say before you speak any concerns or complaints."

She repeated the motion of the room-including stare she'd done in the Great Hall, though it was more effective in the smaller quarters with such few recipients.

"We did not have any responses from the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs-"

"Probably because the bookworms already did everything," Ron whispered to Harry before snapping his mouth shut at McGonagall's look.

"Indeed, Mr Weasley, maybe they were able to complete their studies in a manner they were satisfied with. Regardless of the reason, your two houses are the only ones that did.

"During the preparations for your last school year, we discovered that the castle itself offered an option. A section of the castle seems to have modified itself for your stay. You will be making use of these rooms as your dormitories."

Harry could hear Ron take a deep breath, possibly to rant about the injustice of it all. Hermione's hard nudge to his side deflated his attempted rebellion. The reaction from the rest of the students was much the same. Horrified looks were exchanged even between the two houses while Dumbledore smiled encouragingly at Harry from his frame.

For his part, Harry was taken back. This was not going to be like the years before. One of his major reasons for agreeing to come back was enjoying what he'd missed during the war. He certainly had never bunked with the Slytherins.

"You will attend your main classes together, though the points you earn or lose will affect your respective houses. I expect you to comport yourself with dignity, and provide a good example for the younger years."

Her thin lips pursed together. "Any questions?"

A couple of people started talking at once. "Raise your hands," she ordered.

Hermione was the first to raise hers; she had plenty of practice doing so.

"Headmistress, how exactly is the curriculum going to be carried out? I'm sure we all have different timetables?"

"You will have Transfiguration, Potions, and Muggle Studies together. You will be integrated into classes with the seventh years for the remaining courses."

"Yes, Miss Parkinson?" Harry turned to look at the girl. People had been sure to tell him she had taken up a cry to turn him over to Voldemort.

"I didn't sign up for Muggle Studies." She wrinkled her pug nose in distaste.

"You didn't have too. It is now a requirement," McGonagall replied, daring her to complain.

Ron's hand shot up in the air, and he began to speak when the headmistress nodded. "So, we are going to live together? In the same room?"

"Well, no, Mr Weasley." Ron's face was filled with relief until she continued. "Obviously, the ladies and gentlemen will have their own dormitories and share a common room."

"Yes, Miss Patil?"

"Will there be a bed for Lavender? I'm sure she's coming." Her expression was hopeful.

"There are accommodations being made for her," the headmistress replied with a softening of her features.

"Any more questions?"

Zabini looked as if he had a few choice words, but made no movement to speak. Goyle seemed more interested in whatever was in his pockets than to what was being said. Malfoy glanced briefly toward Harry but said nothing, returning his gaze to his hands.

"Okay, then I will lead you to your new dormitories now."

They stood up to follow her, moving less enthusiastically than before.

"Draco." They all stopped when Dumbledore called out to the blond. "A word please." The former headmaster's smile was kind and gentle.

McGonagall ushered them all out with two thin hands firm against their shoulder blades. Harry's last sight was of Draco standing before the portrait, his loose blond hair covering his lowered face.

They descended the staircase and got in line behind McGonagall. "Come along, please."

"Don't we have to wait for Malfoy?" Harry, first in line, asked quietly.

"He'll know where to go, Mr. Potter," she replied, taking them forward out of the tower. They used the stairways to reach the seventh floor and walked down a long corridor. It was the sight of the Barnabas and his graceless troll ballet that brought Harry to a halt.

No wonder they didn't need to wait for Malfoy.

Their new dormitories were in the Room of Requirement.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author: ** **chibidraco**  
**Beta:** **noscrubs12345***  
**Title**: Forever Entwined  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 3,767

Red string of fate prompt from emeraldpanther

* * *

There was no doubt it was the Room of Requirement, although the doorway was in plain sight without the need to wish it into existence. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about staying in it, though he imagined it would look nothing like the rooms he'd used before.

On its only door hung a elegant black frame, but there was nothing in it at the moment. Whoever occupied it must have been out visiting like the Fat Lady used to do. They looked to each other after a while when no one appeared.

McGonagall went to stand next to the painting, her crossed arms and tapping foot a sure sign she was growing impatient. Whoever it was, they were certainly in for a tongue lashing at the hands of the Scottish witch when they returned to their post.

"Who do you think it is?" Seamus asked Dean.

"Maybe Sir Cadogan?" Dean offered. It was as good a guess as any since the knight had filled in for the Fat Lady when she was being repaired in third year.

The Slytherins did not offer any opinions, and remained separated from the group now that they had fallen out of their line formation.

"Where's his pony, though?" Ron joined in. Harry could recall the boisterous knight and his questionable steed.

"Right, and the background was a grassy hill!"

Dean did not get a chance to provide any more theories, for just as soon as Seamus was agreeing with Ron a man came back into the portrait.

"Where were you, Severus?" All the students looked at him with wide eyes, and it was almost funny how the Slytherins' backs went ramrod straight, even Goyle's, who'd been slumping against the opposite wall.

Snape was dressed in his customary black robes, although they could only see him from the chest up. His hook nose, stringy hair and pale face were all the same. Harry felt like those black eyes pierced him, but he maintained eye contact with the man. The last time he'd seen him, he'd been bleeding out from Nagini's attack and asking him to look into his eyes one last time, one last look to imagine the very same eyes in a different face. When Harry suggested his portrait be hung in Hogwarts in his honour, he never expected him to be his portrait guardian. Then again, the new living arrangements had caught him by surprise like a rogue Bludger in a fast-paced game of Quidditch.

He didn't know what Snape's portrait read on his face, but he did nothing more than narrow his eyes before looking toward the headmistress when he replied, "Am I now bound to this location?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Snape had been the first person Harry knew who could express a full range of emotion through the slant and arch of his eyebrows.

"You know you must be here once the term has started." The manner in which McGonagall explained it was with loving exasperation; as loving as the stern woman could seem, anyway.

"So, for now I have been relegated to watching over this sad experiment." The sarcasm he was known for was in full force.

Was that what they were? An experiment? Did that mean they were going to integrate the dorms in the other houses depending on whether or not they all remained in one piece at the end of the year? Harry dared another look at the Slytherins and wondered what was taking Malfoy so long. Could they be talking about that night in the Astronomy Tower?

"Now, Severus, you understand why this is so important. Why the castle itself agrees, not to mention a certain portrait in my office." She reminded Harry of a mother telling her child to eat his vegetables because he would grow up big and strong, no matter how distasteful they were.

"So I must endure for the greater good." Harry snapped his eyes toward him; it seemed the man was still tied to Dumbledore's wishes even in death. He wasn't sure if he should feel sorrier for Snape or him and his friends. It was obvious they were all following the former headmaster's wishes with this arrangement, and, like Snape, he was going to conform to them.

"Thank you, Severus." McGonagall turned away from him to face the group.

"As you can see, Professor Snape will be guarding the entrance to your rooms. For the time being, you are not allowed to bring anyone in here from another house. The professor will be ensuring that. I will be lifting that restriction in three weeks or so. Also, keep in mind this considered your common room, and you are not allowed to frequent the common rooms of your original houses."

"Excuse me, I told Daphne I would watch out for her sister. How am I supposed to do that now?" Pansy complained.

"I'm sure you will be able to provide assistance to Miss Greengrass even with this restriction. We are allowing visitors for just such a reason."

"Any other questions?" McGonagall turned to the rest of them.

Ron muttered, "Can Snape take off points?"

Harry was surprised to see Snape smile without malice. Maybe he was amused he still inspired that much fear in his students. "Yes, Professor Snape can remove points."

The groans were low and unanimous from the Gryffindors.

"I won't as long as they are capable of following the rules." His expression and tone did little to reassure them he believed they were capable of such a task, especially with the meaningful glances he directed toward Harry, Hermione and Ron.

Harry imagined Snape would need a way to keep himself occupied with this temporary profession, and torturing and taking points from them might just be the entertainment he chose. Oddly, he couldn't muster too much concern at the possibility of lost points. There was too much he'd seen of the inner workings of the man to desire picking up where their animosity left off. Besides, this year was not about intrepid adventuring, but embracing the mundane day-to-day that was normal for the other students.

"With your special circumstances, should you need guidance from a head of house, both Professor Slughorn and Professor Miller will be able to assist any one of you. I hope not to see you for disciplinary action, but my office is otherwise open to you."

"What's the password?" Neville asked before she could leave.

"The password is 'I am a dunderhead.'" Her lips thinned and she sent one last look at the Potions Master, who remained impassive.

Once she said the password, the door swung open to reveal what was to be their new home.

His first impression was his former common room had been ransacked, along with Slytherins', to provide the odd collaboration of furniture that inhabited the space. The only difference was that the palette of the furniture was a range of warm earth tones with no red or green to be found. There were two brown leather couches, framed by fluffy crème armchairs. There were desks for homework, and open space to carry out games and such. Over all the setup was the same, if only smaller than their respective common rooms.

The Hogwarts crest hung above their fireplace, framed by banners that were the only things representing their houses in the room. They seemed to be serious about this integration, or whatever it was, even going as far as sharing their heads of house with each other.

It was that thought which reminded Harry he was uncertain over something McGonagall had said. While the others dispersed into the room, touching decorations and comparing the differences, he pulled Hermione aside.

"Who's Professor Miller?"

"Abigail Miller. She is the new Muggle Studies teacher and head of the Gryffindor House," she answered confidently.

"Right, McGonagall can't stay on as head of house." It dawned on Harry he had not given the details of her change in administration position much thought.

"No, she can't, but Professor Miller seems nice," Hermione offered, reading the uncertainty in his face.

"What happened to Burbage, though?" he asked, referring to the prior Muggle Studies instructor.

"She resigned through the post at the beginning of the last school year. No one has heard from or seen her since last summer, and Alecto Carrow was quick to appoint himself her replacement. The Aurors suspect foul play, but they haven't found a body, so there's not much to go on."

They shared a commiserating look; they knew very well what going missing during the war meant. The chances they would ever find her alive and unharmed somewhere enjoying early retirement were very slim.

"We're not itching to bed down with you either!" Both turned back to the group at Zabini's exclamation.

There was a scowl on his face and he stood toe to toe with Ron.

Hermione let out a sigh. It seemed it had only taken those few unsupervised minutes for Ron to get into an altercation.

"Exactly. We can just split up. Gryffindors in one dormitory and Slytherins in the other," Ron declared

"The staircases are sure to be charmed. Boys and girls won't be able to room together." Hermione reminded him, gently pulling him back from the other boy.

"I'm shocked little miss no it all didn't figure out a way to disarm the charm by now," Pansy jeered, looking down at Hermione.

"We weren't trying to creep into each other's beds at night to have free for alls!" Ron defended his girlfriend.

"Did you really do that in Slytherin? Host scandalous orgies?" Dean rolled his eyes at Seamus's enthusiasm.

Pansy looked at him in disgust. "No! Were you buggering each other in dog piles in your common room?" she shot back.

"We're lions, not dogs," Ron corrected. Parvati covered her face at his poorly thought out response.

"Oh, so the rest is accurate enough?" She gave them a satisfied smirk.

"What! No! No piles or orgies." Ron shook his head.

The door opened and Malfoy quietly stepped through the entrance. When everyone's heads spun in his direction, he hesitated in the doorway. For a moment, Harry thought he would turn around and step back out.

"Draco, darling, wait until you hear what the Gryffindorks get up to in their house. And to think we'll have to room with them. It puts me off my lunch." Pansy curled her lip in distaste, making her unattractive nose even more prominent.

"Hey, if anyone should be disgusted it's us for being stuck with you lot," Ron shot back venomously.

"Why's that, Weasley?" Zabini asked, deceptively calm.

"Because you're all cowards, every one of you, who listened to whatever your mum and dads told you and chose to follow a nutter." Ron may have been looking at Zabini when he said it, but the words were obviously meant for Malfoy.

Harry watched Neville begin to draw closer to Ron, and yet Malfoy remained still, looking on at the group with his hands to his sides, making no move to grab his wand or reply.

"We're cowards because we don't run to our deaths? I knew it would be like this. That we would be blamed for the war," Zabini declared shaking his head.

"How could you not?" Ron asked disbelievingly. "It was all because of the Slytherins, the people who tortured and murdered and brought this war on. They were all Slytherins. Do you understand? Your sneakiness and ambition are good for nothing but evil." Neville motioned to Hermione to let Ron go so he could hold his arm in a firmer grip.

"Ron," Neville tried to calm him, but the redhead was not paying attention.

Harry watched, seeing the anger shift through the Slytherins behind Zabini. Parkinson's eyes were hard, and Goyle was clenching his fists.

"You think you're so much better than us?" Zabini asked, moving closer again.

Ron gently removed Hermione's hand from his arm. "You prove it all on your own that we're better than people like you and Malfoy." It seemed like the appearance of Malfoy had served to spur Ron's aggression so much so that the situation had turned from almost harmless ribbing to this volatile argument in such a few moments. Harry knew the anger from Bill's attack and Hermione's torture at the manor was still fresh, and those grievances were thrown on top the countless skirmishes that fed Ron's anger.

Malfoy, for his part, had still not moved from the doorway, even with Parkinson's insistent motions that he go to her side. He made no sign he heard Ron's taunt or would do anything about it. His face was expressionless, and when he did move it was only to tuck away some loose blond strands behind his ear.

Zabini did not hold back though. "You love acting all holier than thou, don't you, Weasel? Just because you're the sidekick of the golden boy, you want to lord it over us and act like you're better."

Harry watched a blotchy pattern form and spread from Ron's face to his neck. He knew he should interfere, but even as he was having the thought it seemed his body had moved close enough so that he was placing a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder and standing in front of him.

He knew everyone's eyes were fixed on him, could feel their stares growing heavy on his shoulders. His still war-sensitive reflexes went haywire when he noticed Zabini's hand slip into his pocket, but he did not reach for his own.

He never had a problem with Zabini-he barely knew him-but here he was sprouting such utter nonsense. Here they all were, talking nonsense. He understood Ron's anger, but he could not ignore Hermione's visible anxiety or the uncertainty and confusion on the Gryffindors' faces even as they stood behind Ron to back him up.

What good would this do?

"We don't think we're better than you," he said quietly. Zabini didn't look as if he believed him.

"Actually, we had to fight and die just to prove we were equal." His tone was flat, and he did not look away as he spoke to him.

"Maybe we fucked things up by automatically treating you like the enemy. We acted just like the simple minded fools we were fighting. They'd have you believe you're worth nothing more than the blood running through your veins." Harry's laughter was dark and ringing with ice. "But trust me, we all bleed red. We can all burn, and when we get brought down, we all cry out just the same."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Goyle flinch at the mention of burning.

"That man out there is proof he could use his traits for good, and he had more courage than anyone I've ever met, and that includes Gryffindors." He motioned back toward the door without turning.

"Maybe you've just been guilty of mindlessly going along with your families. Now you can choose to be different or not." Harry shrugged carelessly. He wasn't looking to reform everyone; some of the pureblood enthusiasts from Slytherin had proved they were just as willing to kill over their ideals. "I'm not here to police you, but I won't keep playing at war with people who can't understand what it really means."

He moved back from Zabini, and turned slightly left. His eyes met with Malfoy's, and there was more emotion in those silver eyes from his words than Ron's insults. He could not identify what sentiment it was, though.

"Harry's right. We don't think we're better." Neville's voice broke their shared gaze, and Harry turned to look at his friend, who'd moved to stand beside him in support.

"We all came back for this last year, and we're in this situation together. We don't have to be friends, but I'm sure none of us came to continue fighting. Can we agree on that?" Neville's words were quiet but strong.

One by one everyone in the room nodded. Zabini slowly went back to his group, and Malfoy finally moved closer until he was standing within reaching distance of Parkinson and the rest.

Looking at Neville now, one could hardly imagine he was the same boy who'd stumbled around nervously, always searching for his missing toad. This was the Neville who had led a rebellion, represented hope for those caught up in the horror of a Hogwarts under siege, and Harry could not have felt prouder.

"Is this some of the stuff that's been on your mind?" Hermione asked gently.

"Maybe." Truthfully, it may have been simmering in his mind somewhere, kindled by thoughts of Snape or seeing Malfoy with Teddy this past summer, but it hadn't been his intention to reveal any of it. Hearing Ron's words, though, and watching both groups growing tenser and on the edge of a fight had finally pulled the words right out of him.

Now he felt a little foolish, as if he'd been a beauty queen going on about changing the world and doing away with prejudice.

He looked at Ron uncertainly. Harry remembered his words before their Sorting eight years ago. 'Everyone that's gone bad comes from Slytherin.' Suddenly, it felt like he was almost going against his friend.

Harry tried to think of an explanation and opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione nudged Ron and he managed to speak first.

"I'm sorry, mate. We've done enough fighting. I'll play nice if they do, but I still don't trust them." Ron made sure to emphasise that fact.

Harry nodded. That was all right; he didn't either. How could you trust someone you didn't know? Or only knew by the hateful things they'd spouted at each other?

"We should go to bed," Parvati suggested quietly from where she'd been speaking with Seamus and Dean.

"Yeah, might as well choose our beds and get some rest," Seamus agreed, pulling Dean with him toward the set of stairs on the right.

Harry and Ron bid the Gryffindor girls goodnight and followed up after Neville, leaving the Slytherins to say their own goodbyes.

The boys' dormitory was familiar with exception to its size. To handle twice the amount of usual occupancy, the room was larger and shaped in a half circle, like Gryffindor Tower.

They stopped short. There didn't seem to be any need to hurry to get their choice of beds. Much like it had been in first year, their trunks were already set in front of the different four posters. The Slytherins trickled in, Malfoy at the end of the procession.

Each boy made his way to his trunk and the corresponding bed, muttering various complaints as he went.

"That's different," Harry thought he heard Malfoy whisper, looking out one of the windows. He took a look out himself, but didn't see anything out of place. He was used to a view overlooking the grounds, but he imagined it was very different than what Malfoy usually saw from beneath the lake.

Harry's bed was in one corner, followed by Draco, Ron, Blaise, Neville, Gregory, Dean, ending with Seamus in the other corner. It was amusing to watch Ron make a show of warding his trunk once he'd gathered his pyjamas to change for bed.

Harry, at such an angle, had a clear view of Malfoy disrobing by his bed between his own and Ron's. Ron was busy watching Malfoy intently, like he expected him to do something heinous the moment he turned his eyes away.

Malfoy seemed to be ignoring him. When he changed out of his uniform shirt, he contortioned his body, keeping his left arm at an odd angle, almost as if he was trying to keep it concealed. The purpose of the strange movement was clear to Harry: he was trying to hide the Dark Mark.

Harry couldn't explain it, but he suddenly wanted to see the confirmation of what he'd suspected in sixth year, wanted to close the small distance separating them and take hold of that pale, thin arm, turn the limb in his hands to see the Mark, the claim that proved Malfoy belonged to a man who had sought to kill Harry and everyone he loved. It was also the arm that had held Teddy and rocked him to sleep, carefully attending to the small boy who'd lost so much to the madmen who'd worn the very same Mark with pride. He feels conflicted between the two rationales-the certainty of Malfoy's darkness, and the surprise of the reserved kindness he'd seen glimpses of that summer.

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to scrape it off with his fingers until the evidence of his misguided allegiance had completely disappeared, reduced to nothing but skin and ink trapped under Harry's stubby fingernails. He blinked at the strange direction his thoughts were taking. Why was it affecting him so?

He realised Draco had stopped dressing and was looking directly at him, arms tucked into the long sleeves and the fabric bunching against his chest. Harry could clearly see the flat plane of his lean torso.

It dawned on him the strange look the blond sent his way was because he'd been caught staring, and he cleared his throat quickly, nervously moistening his lower lip with his tongue before uttering a quiet "goodnight." It felt a little strange. They'd exchanged a few words during the summer afternoons their visits coincided, but Harry couldn't think of anything to say. He certainly wasn't going to mention his thoughts on the Dark Mark and his apparently preferred method of removal.

"Goodnight," Draco answered softly, lifting his arms and pushing his head through the neck of his top and pulling the shirt straight. He didn't look at Harry again, but tucked himself into his bed. Harry noticed he didn't leave his wand on the table, but slipped it beneath his pillow.

Harry climbed into bed, reluctantly grabbing the warm cup of milk that appeared on his nightstand. He sat up, slowly sipping the drink. He answered the calls of goodnight from his fellow Gryffindors, and smiled at Neville's additional goodnight that hung in the air for anyone who chose to receive it.

There were new sounds to account for in this new dormitory: Restless shuffling of comforters, and snoring that was louder and deeper than he was used to, but he knew he could learn to live with the additions. Everyone drew the curtains around their beds, and his last glimpse of Malfoy showed him curled on his side, back to Harry, facing Ron's bed.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Author: **chibidraco**  
Beta: **noscrubs12345***  
Rating: R  
Word Count: 4,945  
Warnings: some Harry x Ginny non-explicit  
Summary: The war is over, and things are not as Harry expects, his relationship with Ginny is fractured, his future uncertain and his search for normalcy leads him to Draco Malfoy , for they are bound together by a red string of fate. (HBP and DH complaint, EWE "Eight Year")

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance.  
The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break." - an ancient Chinese belief , prompt from emeraldpanther

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all related characters do not belong to me.

* * *

When Harry woke the next morning, he did not rise right away. He was content to lie on his back, taking in the blurry view of the "roof" over his bed. With his hands folded over his stomach, he concentrated on slowly breathing in and out, using the simple task to hover in the state just before sleep, creating the perfect moment to relax where he didn't have to face the world just yet.

He had no idea what time it was, but he figured he was safe to assume it was not time for him to get up or Ron would have shaken him awake by now.

It would be a while until he grew used to waking up early again. At home, he was afforded all the time he needed to gather himself to start the day. Here, he was bound to designated meal times and set class schedules.

"Harry!" The hiss effectively pierced through his bubble of tranquillity. It was time to get up it seemed. He drew his curtain back, reaching for his glasses with one hand. Once his vision adjusted, he was afforded a clear view across Draco's empty bed to Ron frantically buttoning up his uniform shirt.

"Get up, mate. We have thirty minutes left for breakfast. The Slytherins left without waking us up," he complained. Indeed, all the Slytherin beds had their drapes drawn and their duvets neatly turned back.

"You wouldn't have woken them either," Neville pointed out, dragging on his trousers.

"Probably not, but still," Ron continued to grumble to himself.

Harry waved his wand, retracting the drapes and throwing his sheets back, cringing when his bare feet touched the cold floor. He joined his hands together, stretching his arms above his head and groaning at the relief of his stretched muscles.

He grabbed his uniform from his trunk, dressing as quickly as he could. He went to the bathroom to wash up and finish getting ready, and found Dean doing the same.

"Morning." Harry reached for the soap, working a lather between his palms.

"Morning." Dean paused mid-downward stroke with his razor.

"No depilatory charm for you?" Harry himself had taken to using the charm once he had the need to shave. Ron had taught it to him.

"Nope. I used to watch my stepfather shave in the mirror when I was little." The dark skinned boy shrugged. "I guess I always looked forward to this. Proof I was becoming a man. Maybe if I'd grown up watching my real father use a charm, I would too." His words were matter of fact and carried no heat, but Harry felt a little uncomfortable nonetheless.

"I'm sorry about what happened during last year," he offered. He knew the absence of his natural father had not helped his case when they couldn't prove Dean had a magical parent, which had in turn forced him to be registered and go on the run.

"I should be saying the same to you, mate, but we survived, didn't we?" Dean finished one last sweep against the forming bristles under his chin. He splashed water across his face to do away with the remaining bits of hair and soap. "I should be thanking you for helping us get out of Malfoy's place."

"It was all Dobby. He saved us all," Harry corrected, bending his head closer to the sink. He scrubbed his hands against his face, scrubbing his hands over his closed eye lids a little rougher than was comfortable. Maybe water would hide the glistening of his eyes as he thought of the toddler sized grave by Shell Cottage.

After he finished drying his face, he was surprised to see Dean still standing beside him as if he was waiting for him.

"I just wanted to say that I support you," Dean said quietly.

"Thanks, I guess, but with what?" For a horrifying moment, he thought Hermione might have mentioned something about his current condition in some well-intentioned plot to make it easier for him.

"What you said last night," he explained, allowing Harry to relax. "Seamus and I were never in the thick of it, but we'll help keep the antagonising between us and the snakes at a minimum."

"Oh, okay. Thanks," he replied a little uncomfortably. "Look, I'm not advocating love for all Slytherins," he clarified before he was seen as some kind of philanthropist with a much more noble reason to wanting the griping to stop than his need to satisfy his own uncertainty and emerging guilt.

"I know you're just asking us to be fair. I don't expect to see you in the stands waving their flag just yet."

"Not likely. I think Ron would be the first to hex me if I tried." They shared a laugh, imagining the red head's reaction if he saw him pledging allegiance to the Slytherins.

What would Ron's reaction be if he learned the Sorting Hat has considered Harry for Slytherin? Harry didn't think he would ever want to find out. It was yet another thing he should keep to himself.

"I'm glad you decided to come back."

"What can I say? Hermione convinced me...something about a chance to do it right."

"It will definitely be different than the year you two spent camping and on the run from Snatchers," Seamus interjected, catching the last part of their conversation when he stepped into the communal bathroom.

"I hope so," Dean agreed, cuffing his friend on the back of the head for the dark humour.

"I heard you got back with Ginny. That will be different. You'll have a proper girlfriend to snog in dark corners. You'll be sneaking off to the Astronomy Tower with your lovely red head," Seamus teased with a grin.

Harry was caught up in his comment about the tower, though he didn't think there would be any more assignations at the Astronomy Tower. At least not any he was a part of. Not after what occurred there.

He just shrugged at Seamus's comments; he didn't think he and Ginny were going to be sneaking off anywhere if he could barely manage getting comfortable when they were in public.

"Congratulations, by the way, for getting back together," the dark skinned boy said congenially. He didn't seem too concerned, but Harry felt awkward because of the history between Dean and Ginny. What if he still had feelings for her? Somewhere between escaping the dungeon and Dobby's funeral, one of the first things he'd asked was Ginny's welfare.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, "I don't think I ever apologised for, well, you know, getting together with her so quickly after you broke up." He said it guiltily-he could recall their last argument being about the supposed shove Dean had given her at the portrait hole, how it had really been Harry under the invisibility cloak.

It had not been on purpose, but he'd thought about it from time to time, especially this past summer. Would Dean and Ginny have worked out whatever problems they had, been brought closer together through the worry of the war like Hermione and Ron had?

If he had not stumbled into her on his rush to take advantage of the Felix Felicis before it ran out, would he now be on the outside, looking in on Dean and Ginny together? He'd thought of the event as being lucky for both of them. It had freed Ginny to date him, but now he wasn't so sure.

Maybe Ginny would have been happier because she didn't seem very happy now. There were times when she seemed content, and then, almost as if she could sense the uncertainty and detachment rise in him, her mood shifted accordingly.

"It's all right," Dean shrugged. "I think you were all she wanted from the moment she saw you in second year. Maybe it's meant to be and all that rot." He patted him on the shoulder. His smile was genuine, and Harry gave him a small smile before shoving his toothbrush in his mouth.

"Do you want us to wait for you?"

"It's okay," he answered Seamus through the foam in his mouth. "I'll go as soon as I'm done."

"Okay, come on, Dean. We should really go down and try to grab some breakfast."

Once he was alone, he observed his reflection in the mirror, always a little surprised he still looked so young. He watched himself practice his smile for the day around the bristles, and almost laughed at how clearly it showed he was trying too hard.

"Ready, Harry?" Ron called from the doorway.

He nodded, rinsing a few times before following him out of the bathroom. He accepted his school bag from Ron with a quick thanks, and made it down the stairs after his friend. Harry was not surprised to find Hermione waiting in the common room, seated on one of the larger couches.

"Finally! You need to set your alarms," she cried, pushing up from her seat. "I have your time tables, and we only have fifteen minutes at the most to eat something before Transfiguration."

Harry let himself be pushed out the portrait along with Ron, ignoring the amused look on Snape's face as he watched them go.

X x x X x x X

"Where were you guys last night? I tried asking our new head of house, but she just said you were okay." Ginny raised her voice a little to be heard over the sound of the morning rush of students busier chatting than actually eating.

They were gathered in the corner of the table beside the seventh years, and Harry was once again facing the Slytherin table. He could not see any of his roommates; they were probably en route to Transfiguration.

"We have separate accommodations," Hermione answered for them.

"You don't have to do this!" Ginny declared as soon as she was brought up to speed about their living conditions.

"It's what McGonagall wants." Harry didn't look up from his timetable, absently accepting the piece of bread that was floating next to him.

"You can't really want to share a room with them?" she pressed on disbelievingly.

"I don't really mind," he answered vaguely, sipping his orange juice. As soon as he was done, a small plate of sausages shifted across the table.

This was getting a little ridiculous.

"Kreacher, I don't want anymore," he muttered. Harry reminded himself to speak to the elf as soon as possible before he ended in the hospital wing from overeating, though that would be a welcome change from his prior visits.

"Harry?"

"Sorry, Kreacher again," he shrugged. Ginny did not seem very appeased with his explanation, but she just shook her head and decided not to comment on the house elf's attempts to mother him.

"You're really okay with this?" she asked again. She shook her head in consternation. "Do you really think that's going to be best for you? To have to play nice and live with the snakes?"

"Am I supposed to fight them until I die?" he asked softly, folding his timetable. After Transfiguration, he had an hour break before Muggle Studies and Potions, followed by another break before finishing the day with Herbology and art.

"No, of course not." She looked torn between sticking to her reservations and being supportive. She confirmed it when Harry saw her look toward Hermione and receive an encouraging nod.

"So, you do get some classes with us, don't you?" she said finally.

He handed her the schedule so she could see for herself; he had no idea what her timetable looked like.

"The only class we have together is Charms on Thursday and Friday," she complained after looking it over. Ron reached over, grabbing Harry's schedule from her lax hands, spreading it beside his own.

He didn't think it was good he felt blasé about their lack of shared classes. It was probably worse he felt a little relieved. He only shrugged in reply. There was something that flickered in her brown eyes before she turned her attention to folding her schedule into a small square before shoving it into her pocket.

"You'll be able to see each other plenty." Hermione patted Ginny's shoulder. "Ron and I only have so many classes together because of the eighth year program."

"So even the Slytherins will see him more than I will," Ginny muttered. Harry heard her comment, but decided not to reply. He couldn't think of what he could say to sooth her temper. Maybe it was for the best they didn't integrate all the classes. He could easily see Ginny having rows that ended in her cursing Zabini with a Bat-Bogey Hex.

"How is it we have such different schedules?" Dean asked from the other side.

"The professors took on extra classes so they could include us and not overflow the classrooms," Hermione answered, grateful to get a change in topic.

"It's why the headmistress is going to teach us Transfiguration while Professor Clarke teaches all the other years."

"You have art, Harry?" Ron interrupted and pointed to the block right after Apparition. His ginger eyebrows inclined in question."I thought you were going to take Divination. That's why I chose it."

"I didn't want to fake my death in Divination anymore. I thought art would be more interesting."

"What's so interesting about manipulating paint with your wand?" The redhead really was taken aback by his decision. Sure, Divination was a crock, but at least it was an easy grade and they would have been together.

Harry's eyes widened. "More interesting than I thought. I just assumed they gave you paintbrushes and canvas."

Harry smiled, a little more pleased with his decision. He'd picked it on the whim because the class seemed like it could be fun.

When he looked up at Ron, his friend was no longer griping. He just patted him on his shoulder and simpered playfully. "Draw me a picture, yeah? So I can hang it on my bed, and show everyone little Harry's creation." Harry knocked shoulders with his friend, glad he'd accepted his decision without too much fuss.

"Well, Ginny and I have Arithmancy and Ancient Runes together," Hermione informed them.

"Don't worry. We'll see each other plenty," she reassured both Weasley siblings.

X x x X x x X

The eighth year students left Transfiguration with pages of notes and even a homework assignment. McGonagall had not been kidding when she said she wanted to prepare them; she'd started a review from sixth year without pause, calling out questions Harry only had vague answers to. He had jotted notes as quickly as he could manage, but he knew he would be joining Ron in seeking Hermione's help later.

They made their way to Muggle Studies, the Slytherins lagging behind. Harry was quick to notice Draco was the one hanging back the most, Pansy clinging to his sleeve trying to get him to walk at her pace.

There seemed to be something very strange with his behaviour; he'd notice he had been quieter, but he thought it sprung from being alone. Now that he was with his housemates, he thought he would regain some of his, well, prattishness, he guessed.

A part of Harry longed for Draco to regain some of that fire. It didn't seem right he resembled a blown out candle, once bright with gloating self-pleasure but now shrouded in darkness. Yet he knew it was not a feasible endeavour. Draco had donned this new personality somewhere between Dumbledore's murder and Crabbe's death in the Fiendfyre.

He longed to ask him what he'd spoken of with Dumbledore. His own talks with Albus had often left him feeling either more prepared to face the situations he'd encountered or frustrated with his vague answers, knowing the man knew more than he let on. He couldn't really blame Dumbledore, though, for in the end every move he'd made had only been toward one goal-the Greater Good.

He'd played them like chess pieces, never seeking to sacrifice any of them, but understanding sometimes it was necessary, even taking on the role of martyr in the end. So, no, Harry couldn't blame him. He could question, though. He was tempted to ask the portrait if he realised how cunning he had to have been to execute all those moves behind the scenes, some of the more vital ones even from beyond the grave.

Seeing Malfoy's still subdued behaviour, he was inclined to believe his meeting with the headmaster's portrait did not leave him with the enthusiasm of the former kind of meeting, but the confusion of the latter. Who would Malfoy speak to? Would he confide with anyone what the headmaster had shared?

It didn't seem like Zabini or even Goyle was eager to socialise with him. Pansy so far had been the only person he'd seen attempting to speak to Draco. For now it appeared the conversation would stay between the two men, unless Harry asked himself, which he didn't see happening any time soon.

When their group rounded the corner the professor was already waiting in the doorway, even though Harry knew they were not late. She welcomed them to her classroom, waiting for Malfoy to step in before closing the door.

Professor Miller was older than he'd expected, maybe around forty or fifty in appearance, which meant she could be twenty or even thirty years older, as witches and wizards lived longer lives. Her greying hair still showed an undercoat of brown, and her eyes seemed hazel behind her square spectacles.

"Welcome." Despite her appearance, her voice was strong and rang with confidence, not at all like the low voice he thought would be more fitting.

They separated into two groups, and sat, huddled together, at the small tables on either side of the room.

Harry ended on the edge of one table, Hermione, Neville, and Ron all squeezed up next to him. They were over the capacity of the table, but none of them was about to move.

"Hello. My name is Professor Miller. We have not met before, as I've recently returned to teaching, but do not worry. I am not so out of practice that you won't be challenged." Her sweet smile reminded Harry of a grandmother, the cuddly kind that baked cookies, though he had a feeling the appearance worked to her advantage.

A thought that was reinforced when Pansy whispered loudly, "I doubt it."

The professor quickly replied, "I know some of you do not want to be here, but I am sure you want to do your best in your studies, and will seek to gain points and not lose them. Will you be having a problem?" Her smile lost its sugar and donned a taste of severity.

Pansy replied by shaking her head and turning to Draco, possibly for support, but he was facing forward with his hands cupped on the desk.

"The purpose of this course is to open a door between the wizarding world and Muggle world, allowing you to see and better understand the Muggle way of life." She walked from one side of the room to the other as she spoke. "There was once a good Muggleborn friend of mine who'd decided to pursue her love of anthropology in the Muggle world, and there was one thing she said to me that has always stayed with me."

She waved her wand and words appeared in neat script across the surface of the board. She read it out loud to them. "If the male and female of any two groups can procreate then they are the same being.

"Of course, she was referring to the idea of races being nothing more than a social construct." Professor Miller shrugged with an easy smile. "However, it can be applied to all of us. We are the same beings, though it just so happens we were born with magic while Muggles have developed plenty enchantments of their own.

"Please turn to the first page of your textbook, and we'll review a little thing called electricity."

Harry knew all about electricity, as he knew a lot of his friends did having lived with Muggles in their own families. Hermione, unsurprisingly, took notes, but she wasn't the only one. Harry spotted Malfoy carefully writing his own notes as the teacher spoke.

Pansy frowned when she'd noticed, and her expression was ugly when she hissed what had to be a complaint at him. Malfoy simply looked to her and answered in a few words. Whatever it was seemed to take the bluster right out of her, and she just pouted, turning to the front.

At the end of the class, with only ten minutes to go, Professor Miller stopped the lesson for the day and returned to the board.

"I know this is only our first class, but I do have an assignment for you."

There were muffled groans from those assembled, but she continued right on as if she had not heard a thing.

"To build on this quote, you will imagine your lives ten or twenty years from now, but in this future you have no magic. The assignment will be at least two parchments, and is due a month from today."

"That doesn't make any sense! We will always have magic!" Zabini interjected loudly from his seat.

"Indeed you will, but this is my assignment. If you had to live like a Muggle, how would your lives be? What options would you have?"

"What do you mean? What are we supposed to do?" Ron asked, the confusion he felt plain for everyone to see or snicker at, in the case of Zabini.

"Oh, come now, it is not that difficult." She encouraged, looking from Ron to the Slytherins in particular. "It's a simple assignment. What would you do for a living? You can even add the particulars of your personal life to help with the length. Are you married? Do you have children?

"If you have no idea where to start, the library has plenty of new material to offer assistance. There are a plethora of occupations you can explore."

"We can't do this! We have no idea what Muggles do," Pansy complained.

"That's a lot of parchment," Ron groaned, Seamus agreeing from the back.

Harry did not join in with the complaints. He was too busy wondering what job he would have possibly picked had he never received his Hogwarts letter.

The professor crossed her arms and tapped a knuckle to her chin before she smiled and nodded to confirm whatever decision she'd come to.

"I understand that a lot of your hesitancy comes from your fear of the unknown, so I will make this a group assignment."

She reached for a parchment on her desk that had to be the class roster. She looked at it a moment, moving her finger along before pairing off names slowly as she decided. "Let's have Brown and Finnigan, Goyle and Granger, Parkinson and Patil..."

It seemed she was pairing them up alphabetically, even if Neville should have been with Parvati. Not that Harry was complaining about avoiding the unpleasantness of being Pansy's partner.

"Longbottom and Thomas, Malfoy and Potter, and Weasley and Zabini will be the last group."

The groans were immediate and steadily grew until she let out a sharp whistle. "I used to train dogs," she explained. "I really hope you don't give me more reason to silence you thusly."

No one said anything else.

"When you return on Wednesday, you will sit with your partners. Two to a table should be more comfortable than the huddle you have going now." She looked toward the Gryffindors as she spoke.

X x x x X x x X

By comparison to Muggle Studies, Potions with Slughorn was nowhere near as exciting. Harry said goodbye to his friends at the end of the class, wishing Ron a good time in Divination, before he made his way to the fifth floor to join his own art class.

The room was large with ceiling to floor windows. It was bright and warm.

'Perfect for creating,' Harry thought, then laughed at his own description, as if he were some artist about to create magic on canvas rather than the stick figures he intended to start with. There were only three other students in the class. He was not familiar with any of them, and they all wore white robes similar to the ones he'd seen painters wear.

He crept in feeling a little nervous and out of place, but the sight of long blond hair in the far corner of the room filled him with relief, and he quickly made his way to join Luna. The Ravenclaw was absorbed in what she was painting, a brush wet with paint was perched behind her ear, steadily dripping purple onto the shoulder of her robe. Unlike the other two students, her robe was covered in flowers and suns and all sorts of hand drawn paintings. Harry found he liked the chaotic swirl of colours and images.

"Luna." He said hello in a manner he hoped came out more confident than the relieved squeak he'd heard in his own ears.

"Hello, Harry." He had to step back to avoid the sweep of the brush when she turned to address him. "I didn't know you had art.

"I've taken this class since third year," she informed him, turning back to her creation. Her presence in the class did not surprise him too much, having seen her paintings of her friends' faces on the ceiling of her room.

"Is that some kind of abstract art?" he asked curiously, moving a bit closer.

"It's a Blibbering Humdinger," she answered matter-of-fact, like it should have been perfectly obvious the dark purple and black shapes on the page were that humdinger creature.

"You can't really see anything."

"They are harder to see when they're in shadow," she agreed easily. Pointing to it, she identified parts Harry could not see for the life of him. "That's the snout...the wings...can you see his horn?"

Harry was about to agree, but it felt too much like placating her, and she'd grown too valuable a friend to act as if she were crazy and needed to be assuaged. "I don't see it, Luna," he admitted with a small sigh.

"It's all right. If I manage to see it again, I can make a representation that's easier for you to see."

"All right," he agreed.

"Do I put my bag there?" He pointed to a table in front of them apart from the easels.

"Yes."

"There's no professor?" Harry asked, unpacking his shrunken canvas, paints, pastels, chalk and even modelling clay from his bag. When the items were restored to their original size, they covered a third of his desk space. Maybe he'd gone a little overboard, but, ironically, he noticed that not one of the items were the robes the students wore to protect their uniforms.

"Just you and your art, Harry," Luna replied, appearing beside him and sorting through his supplies, murmuring approvingly here and there before nodding at him with a pleased smile.

"I'll lend you my extra." Without waiting for an answer, she reached into her bag and pulled another robe very similar to the one she wore, though this one was themed for evening with moons and stars and even some fish on the sleeve.

"Thanks." He pulled the robe on; it fell short on his arms and the hem only reached the height of his ankles, but thankfully it was not fitted, so it was comfortable around his shoulders and chest.

"But who tells us what we're supposed to do?" Harry asked, not completely understanding this arrangement. How did they get marked? Not that he clamoured for marks.

"Professor Ward leaves the assignment over there each class. He collects them at the end of the week." She pointed to the front of the class where rainbow letters brightly stood out from the blackboard.

SELF-PORTRAIT

"Aren't you supposed to get a mirror to do this?" he whispered to Luna.

"It's not about the physical representation of your appearance, but what you see yourself as."

Harry wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Or it can be a physical representation, if you want it to be," Luna added, reaching into her bag for one of those little plastic things Hermione carried in her bag nowadays. Compacts, he thought they might be called.

She transformed it into a square mirror about the size of a sheet of paper and handed it to him. "You create whatever you want," she told him before moving back to her easel.

"Wait, does that mean you see yourself as the hamdinger?" He pointed to her drawing.

"Humdinger, and no. I'm riding him." She did a sweep with her finger over the top of a curve of one of the shapes.

He smiled, moving toward his blank canvas. Propping the mirror on the left corner, he picked up a piece of charcoal and started on his self portrait. He kept glancing at his reflection and back to his easel as he worked.

"I like it," Luna said softly over his shoulder.

He had only shaded two eyebrows slightly arched over green smudged circles done in pastel and dark brown fringe above his eyes, but there were no distinct parameters of his face or chin, nor was there any sign of a lightning bolt under the fringe.

It was obviously a first attempt, simple and a little boring.

"I like it too," he answered, taking another look at it.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the two parts, LJ says it was too long.  
I know that there hasn't been a lot of interaction between the guys, but that's about to change really soon :D

Let me know what you thought


	5. Chapter 5

Author: **chibidraco**  
Beta: **noscrubs12345***  
Rating: R  
Word Count: 4,433  
Warnings: some Harry x Ginny non-explicit  
Summary: The war is over, and things are not as Harry expects, his relationship with Ginny is fractured, his future uncertain and his search for normalcy leads him to Draco Malfoy , for they are bound together by a red string of fate. (HBP and DH complaint, EWE "Eight Year")

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance.  
The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break." - an ancient Chinese belief , prompt from emeraldpanther

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all related characters do not belong to me.

* * *

Harry set aside his painting, now with additional shading that made it appear as if his face was emerging from behind a cloud of shadow. At least, he thought, he had managed to fulfil his intent enough to satisfy himself.

After finishing his work, he wandered around the room, stopping at a bookcase near the professor's desk. It was full of books on different art styles and techniques. One detailing the process of using your wand to manipulate watercolours caught his attention. When he returned to his desk with the book, Luna leaned over from behind her easel and informed him he could borrow anything he wanted. He only had to sign it out on the sheet of parchment hanging on the wall.

He decided to sign out the book and practice it next time.

At the end of class, Harry took his time to collect his items, and waved goodbye to a departing Luna. Softly closing the door of the now empty classroom, he was almost reluctant to leave. Enrolling in this class was one of his better decisions. He felt a sense of relaxation that was unfamiliar with any other class he'd taken during all his years at Hogwarts.

His return to the dorms was a quiet trip. He didn't encounter anyone as he drew closer to the Room of Requirement, although he guessed it was just a dorm until they left.

Snape was awake in his portrait. Harry doubted he would find him asleep too often. Maybe late at night, but he would not be the one to try to verify the hypothesis. He gave him the password, shifting his bag on his shoulder and reminding himself to order a painting robe through owl post as soon as he got in. He would have to use Pig. The realisation made him pause. It would be the first time he used an owl after the death of Hedwig. He had given little thought to obtaining a new owl. She had not been just a medium to deliver messages. She'd been his friend, and it felt wrong to replace her.

"Are you?" Snape asked sardonically, thankfully drawing him from his melancholy thoughts.

"Am I what?"

"A dunderhead?" Snape elaborated with fake innocence.

Harry just shrugged. "It's the password, sir."

He was still feeling the calming effects of his afternoon, and could not be bothered to be baited into an argument, especially since he had to decide what to do about his owl situation.

"Sir?" With a disbelieving eyebrow raised, Snape leaned forward as much as his painted image could. "It seems you've finally learned some manners, Potter," he said, almost bemused. "Shame it only took my death to draw respect from you."

Something about the way he said it made Harry think he'd overhead his comments the night before in the common room. He certainly had the access; the Fat Lady always seemed to know the gossip going on within the walls of Gryffindor Tower.

"In all the years we've known each other, you'd only shown me scorn. It wasn't until the last moments of your life you allowed me to see anything I could respect," Harry replied honestly. If he had heard him, it seemed pointless to pretend he had not changed his mind about the man.

"Did I?" His dark eyes narrowed, and his voice was smooth and even with a hint of warning.

"You carry his memories, don't you? From the end?" he added, uncomfortable discussing the circumstances of the man's demise. He didn't think he wanted to rehash those memories.

"No, Potter, I was commissioned when I took the position of headmaster, and I am unaware of what happened afterwards." His lips were pursed. Harry knew it was only a matter of time before he got angry at what he didn't know; he probably felt Harry had the upper hand.

Harry took a quick look around, making sure the hallways were clear. He struggled to arrange his thoughts and make the decision to continue, but he spoke again after a moment.

"Dumbledore would never tell me why he trusted you so much, no matter how much I questioned your true loyalties." Snape sneered, but he continued undeterred. "He said you had proven yourself, and he could trust you above all others." Harry remembered his anger and irrational hurt at the headmaster's words.

"I will have the same discretion," Harry told him, and for a small moment he almost felt like patting himself on the back. He thought it was surprisingly diplomatic of him, and subtle enough without stepping on the man's toes or inciting his temper.

He began to rethink that assessment when Snape remained quiet with a piercing stare. He had an alarming thought that had him scrambling to recall how to shield himself with Occlumency. Could portraits even accomplish Legilimency? He almost shook his head at his own paranoia. Of course they couldn't. He averted his eyes anyway. He'd ask Hermione just to be sure.

"I actually went through with it. I showed you my memories," Snape said softly, as if speaking to himself. Harry still didn't look up at him. Instead, he concentrated on rubbing the residual black smudges of charcoal from the inside of his thumb and index finger.

"I tried to like you."

Harry abandoned his grimy hand and returned his gaze to Snape.

"Yeah, well, you kind of failed at that." Harry couldn't hold back the reflexive scoff or his reply, not when he was offered such an unexpected statement. Not after all the unwarranted hatred he'd directed at him.

"You reminded me too much of your father." Harry was relieved when he didn't insult James, although he knew the intent lay heavily in those simple words.

"You never allowed yourself to see beyond the ghost of him. You never gave me a fair chance." Harry could not deny the expression of guilt that crossed the man's face did a lot to appease the frustration of years of unwarranted bullying.

Then he remembered what he'd seen in Snape's own mind during the one Occlumency session Harry had managed to turn the tables on the Legimens. He could remember seeing the petty behaviour of his father and Sirius, and his own struggle to understand this part of their past all coming together with the rush of memories of his friendship with Lily. He knew there was something he had to say.

"You did manage to keep your promise, though. You helped keep me alive," he conceded, relieved when the pinched expression eased. He wasn't about to apologise for speaking the truth, but he did owe him that much.

"So, thank you, I guess," Harry managed to say.

Snape nodded to acknowledge he'd heard the whispered show of gratitude.

"Can I go in now?" Harry asked, dragging the toe of his trainer along the stone floor. He'd done enough sharing for today.

"You may. What's the password?" It seemed the smug bastard had recuperated.

"I just-" Harry started, but then decided not to argue. "I am a dunderhead."

The door swung open, and as he stepped through heard a quiet laugh. The sound stopped him for a moment. It was so unfamiliar. Maybe as much as Snape's death had served to provide a new understanding for Harry, it had been the only thing that gave Snape the peace to laugh. Nevertheless, Harry would have appreciated it if he wasn't the one providing the source of the man's newfound humour.

As he'd expected, everyone had beaten him back and were congregated in the common room. The Gryffindors were on the couches, and the Slytherins were gathered by the desks, the wooden chairs transfigured into more comfortable seating. Malfoy was sitting in an arm chair he must have moved closer to the fireplace, still close to the Slytherins but not quite with them.

Harry tapped Neville on the shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Dean and Seamus. He gestured to the other side of the room and shrugged in question. "What happened?"

"Nothing really. Seamus and I got here first, and we took a couch, but after they saw us they all moved over there," Dean answered.

Harry supposed this was going to be a pattern-the house of the first to arrive would determine who got what side. He guessed it was a step up from fighting for control of the preferred resting spots.

"What's going on with them?" he asked when he noticed Ron and Hermione were sitting on opposite sides of the other couch, no one in between them. Hermione was a reading a large textbook, nothing out of place except so was Ron, and if that was not a sign something was wrong, he didn't know what was.

"Not sure. I think it had something to do with Lavender, though," Seamus answered, pointing to the recent addition. The blonde Gryffindor shared an armchair with Parvati, the other girl's arm around her shoulders and their heads close together in what appeared to be an intent conversation, but they didn't look toward Ron or Hermione, so he didn't think they were the topic of conversation.

He excused himself and made his way over to his best friends.

"What's going on?" Harry whispered, sitting next to Ron. He laughed, a little relieved, when he realised his friend was actually reading a back issue of _Martin Miggs_ tucked into the middle of his textbook. Hermione turned her head to look at them.

"Hello." Hermione gave him a wave before returning to her reading, completely ignoring her boyfriend.

"Lavender came back," Ron whispered, closing the book.

"So?" Parvati had mentioned she would be joining them, even asked McGonagall if there would be a bed for her, so her sudden presence was not out of the blue.

"Well, she just said hello, and 'Mione got mad." Ron didn't meet his eyes when he shared the information.

"She didn't 'just say hello,' Ron. She embraced you and gave you a kiss precariously close to your mouth," Hermione interjected, turning back to face them both. Harry instinctively moved until his back rested on the back of the couch, out of the line of fire.

"She was just being nice. We haven't seen each other properly since the end of sixth year," Ron defended himself. "Right, Harry?"

He just shook his head and held up his hands in surrender. Better to remain mum than get dragged into a spat.

"Hermione, it's silly for you to get mad because she hugged me. You know I only have feelings for you," Ron hissed, leaning forward, his face rapidly turning red.

Harry pressed himself back a little firmer. He was no more comfortable with Ron getting sentimental than he was with the fighting, especially if he was stuck in the middle.

Hermione seemed to appreciate it, though, and Ron's words drew a smile from her. She shifted closer to them.

"You're right." She rolled her eyes at Ron's surprised expression. "No need to look so bewildered. I can admit when I'm wrong. The truth is, I'm actually not so upset over that, although I think the way she clung to you was a tad inappropriate," she stressed. "I'm just worried about the assignment, so I overreacted a bit. I'm sorry, Ron."

"It's okay." The redhead grinned, full of relief and affection for his girlfriend.

Harry saw the shift in their mood, and shot up from the seat, unwilling to be between them if they started making eyes at each other. Ron needed no further urging to move over to Hermione's side.

"You'll do great, 'Mione. When have you ever got a bad mark on anything?" Harry nodded in support. The only class she ever struggled in was Divination, but he wasn't about to be the one to bring that up.

"I've never had to do a project with Goyle before either." She tapped her fingers on her boyfriend's knee.

"Right. I had forgotten about that." Ron puffed up his cheeks and exhaled noisily, taking a look toward the other side of the room.

"You forgot we were partnered up with the Slytherins?" Harry could appreciate his friend's incredulity. He too was having a hard time imagining Ron would simply forget that titbit of information.

"I tried to put it off my mind to keep the peace," Ron justified himself. "I'm not really looking forward to working with Zabini." He paused, and turned to Harry with alarm. "You have to work with Malfoy, mate!"

"I know," Harry nodded. More than any worrying who his partner was, his full attention had been on what he would choose to be for the project.

"This has to be the stupidest thing they've ever asked us to do," Ron complained, crossing his arms and frowning a bit when Harry didn't show more of a reaction at having to work with his nemesis.

"I don't mind the assignment," Hermione clarified. "I actually think it's a great idea. It reminds me of a similar one I did in primary school. What did we want to be when we grew up. Did you do that at your school, Harry?"

"Yeah," he answered simply.

"What did you want to be?" Her curiosity was evident in the widening of her eyes and the expectant look on her face.

"A football player." He remembered how he had arrived at that profession too. He could almost hear his teacher laughing sweetly and informing him he was already part of a family and that she'd been looking for an answer like a doctor or an astronaut. He didn't explain how his own subpar role in his family made him yearn for a proper one. He'd rather she thought him a bit dim than pity him for his situation at home, so he'd apologised and allowed her to help him choose.

"Football? Isn't that what Dean's always going on about?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded. "I never really took it seriously, though. I didn't get too many chances to play." Hard to, when he was always picked last because of the control Dudley had on the playground and their classmates.

"I wanted to be a scientist or a solicitor, and for a time I thought I could do both." Hermione laughed at herself.

"If anyone could pull it off, it would be you," Harry told her, sure his friend could manage anything she set her mind to.

"So we're doing something Muggle children do when they are little? How does that make sense? It's like going backwards!" Ron complained, trying to see if he understood her correctly.

"Maybe Professor Miller is feeling a little sentimental because we are all moving on into the 'real world.' Ginny says her class is doing it too." Hermione offered up the explanation with a lift of her shoulder.

"Sentimental? Maybe with an emphasis on mental," Ron commented. "What am I even supposed to do?"

"Didn't you find anything in the book I got you?" she asked, reaching for the book, but Ron tried to hold onto it.

"Ron, what's wrong with you? Just let me see it."

Harry caught sight of the title-_Look at Me!: A Book of Occupations_-before she managed to get it from him.

"Really, Ron? A comic?" She pulled the comic from between the pages and handed it to her boyfriend.

"What? I'm researching," he replied, resting it in his lap.

"With Martin the Mad Muggle? Ron, I really hope you're joking. Anything you could find in this is pure satire."

Her expression was a cross between fond exasperation and actual disappointment Ron could really believe Martin's behaviour was typical.

"No," he admitted. "I tried reading your book, but I can't understand any of those things." His face contorted in the way it did when he was frustrated or confused by something and blaming it on the material itself.

"Okay, I'll help you explore your options. You take something you're good at and try to find the Muggle equivalent. For example, Charlie works with dragons. In the Muggle world, I could see him working with exotic animals like lions or tigers. Something like that."

"I guess I could pick a teeth torturer like your parents?" Ron said finally. Harry laughed at his friend's comment, playing with the straps on his bag.

"They're called dentists, and they don't torture anyone. Besides, how does that have anything to do with your interests?"

"I don't know. I just thought it would be easier so I don't have to think about it too much. Wait. Does this mean I have to turn in a paper with Zabini?" Harry looked over in interest; he was curious about that too.

"I met with Professor Miller after class. She says we have to help each other with the research and add our feedback to the end of the report, but otherwise we are handing in two separate assignments."

Harry decided that didn't sound too bad.

"So this means I'm going to have to sit down with Goyle tomorrow at the latest to arrange a time to meet, because I am not waiting until the last minute to start working on this," Hermione declared, setting aside the book on occupations.

"I'm not. I'm going to put it off as long as I can," Ron told her, rolling up the comic and patting it against his thigh in agitation.

Harry found he agreed with Hermione. There really was no reason to put it off. The faster it was done, the better. Besides, he would need as much time as possible to complete this. Maybe he could also pick a dentist….

"Ron, I really don't think you should do that."

He found himself walking slowly over to where Malfoy was sitting while Ron and Hermione started to squabble over their differences in schoolwork ethic. He could hear Ron call for him when he'd gone forward a couple steps, but he didn't turn back.

Harry hesitated as he drew closer. Malfoy was concentrating on a Quidditch magazine, and made no effort to look up, even when Harry got close enough he could tap his foot with his own. So he did just that, nudging one of the shiny dress shoes with his own worn and slightly dirty trainer. He really ought to buy new ones, he mused, waiting for Draco to react.

The blond jumped a little, his fists clenching on the sides of the magazine, but they relaxed when his eyes focused on him. "Yes?" Draco said finally, exhaling softly.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," Harry mumbled. Just how focused could he have been on an almost five-year-old edition of _Quidditch Weekly_? He recognised the cover from when Ireland and Bulgaria faced off at the World Cup.

They stared blankly at each other for a moment. He should have thought this out before he approached him, but now he was here he had to proceed. Otherwise he'd look like an idiot. While Harry thought of how to begin, he noticed for the first time he had never quite seen eyes the colour of Malfoy's. His own remained deep emerald. At least that's what he noticed whenever he looked at his reflection, but Draco's seemed to dance along the spectrum from grey to silver. It was kind of strange.

"May I help you?" The question drew Harry's gaze to the Slytherin's lips. He'd never seen lips quite that shade of pink without the use of cosmetics before either.

"Potter!"

He shook off the strange thoughts and answered with the first thing that sprung to his mind. "Do you think that they'll hold the World Cup this year since they couldn't last year?"

He was as surprised as Malfoy looked. The random question had apparently originated from the barmier corners of his mind.

"I have no idea, Potter. Is that what you came over here for?" Draco seemed to agree with Harry's self-assessment by the way he raised his eyebrows and looked almost concerned.

"No, it's just that made me think of it." Harry gestured toward the magazine. Draco seemed to grow more confused with his response before his expression cleared when he turned to look at the cover and its large headline. There was a moment where Harry thought Draco was going to shoot off an insult about how unhinged he thought Harry was, but he simply bit his lip and said nothing.

"I actually came to say we should, you know, probably get together to do the project for Muggle Studies," Harry managed to propose when Draco didn't say anything else.

"When?" the blond answered quietly without any of the struggle Harry imagined he might have put up in the past. It was a little disappointing.

"Wednesday night?" Harry suggested. They'd have time after his art class and before dinner.

"I'm available," Draco replied simply.

"Great. We could meet in the common room, and then maybe go to the library." Harry waited until he agreed before walking away, ignoring the looks from the nearby Slytherins who hadn't bothered pretending they weren't eavesdropping.

"What was that about?" Ron asked as soon as he rejoined them on the couch.

"Just asked him when we could work on Miller's assignment," Harry shrugged, hoping it wouldn't become a huge deal.

"That's great, Harry, taking the initiative. I'll talk to Goyle after dinner. He may be more agreeable after he's eaten," Hermione encouraged him, poking Ron in the side. Harry was glad he had her to run some kind of interference for him.

"Ron, can I use Pig?" Harry asked, both to change the subject and because he remembered his need for a painting robe.

"Of course, mate. Anytime," Ron easily agreed, patting him on the shoulder.

"Thanks. I'm going to go to the Owlery. I'll meet you guys for dinner." He left before they could volunteer to join him.

It was painful not to see Hedwig resting among the perches, easily standing apart from her feathery colleagues. Harry moved to one of her favourite spots anyway, ignoring the large brown owl who had usurped her place. His eyes quickly spotted a lone white feather tucked in the corner of a beam. He reached for it, not bothering to avoid the sharp beak that went for his outreached hand, and managed to carefully grab the feather, twirling it between his fingers before tucking it into his bag. He'd wash it as soon as he was able, and would make a quill from it, one last memento of his friend.

He took a seat outside by the stone steps to avoid resting on owl droppings and animal carcasses. Harry filled out the order form Luna had given him for the robe before grabbing a sheet of parchment and propping his textbook across his knees to create a makeshift desk.

_Dear Andromeda, _

_How are you? How is Teddy? Is he starting to eat solids yet? Kreacher is really going above and beyond the call of duty as far as my own nutrition goes. Did you say anything to him?_

He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he signed it and rolled it up before calling for Pig, bracing himself for the landing, relieved when the wild bird managed to set down on his shoulder with some semblance of grace.

X x x X x x X

The project was all Harry heard about over dinner.

It started with Parvati explaining the assignment to Lavender, who Ron had made a point of sitting far away from, using both Parvati and Hermione as buffers. They soon got beyond the specifications of what was due to complaints about partners, length, the multitude of occupations and the overall uselessness of the assignment itself. Harry heard it all.

When he voiced his own hesitant uncertainties about the assignment, his friends all seemed to brush him off with the certainty his future was already decided. Seamus even threw in his two knuts worth with a cordial slap on Harry's back, almost causing him to spill his pumpkin juice all over the table.

"Well, Harry's lucky. He's going to marry Ginny and have at least thirteen babies. Discussing their names alone should give you at least one full parchment. Now you just have to figure out what job you would have." Everyone laughed good-naturedly, and Ginny blushed a little even as she punched Seamus on the shoulder.

Harry found it all maddening.

He knew it was not completely fair. They had their own concerns about writing on their own futures, but it was hard to shake off their comments. They had his life so clearly pictured in their minds while he was barely able to form a snapshot of what it would look like in two weeks.

He finished his dinner and just watched them, half-listening as Dean tried to convince Ginny to be a football player. His enthusiasm for the sport had not waned, and Harry, although he could join in with his own brief experience of playing on the schoolyard to help Ginny, choose not to join the conversation.

"Harry?"

He turned to look at the redhead, not sure when she had stopped speaking to Dean, but the other boy was already involved in a conversation with Neville on the other side of the table.

"Would you like to go for a walk around the lake Wednesday after class so we can enjoy some time together?" she asked, placing her hand on his arm and offering a hopeful smile.

"I can't. I'm going to start working on my project." His reply was automatic, and his gaze went from her lightly freckled hand to her lovely face, which fell in disappointment. "But we can go after dinner tomorrow," he suggested instead, his guilt easing when she smiled.

"Great." Her grin was sweet and much better than her previous countenance.

Harry concentrated on finishing his desert, waiting for just one person in his group of friends to leave so he could excuse himself. He was glad to follow Neville out, quickly joined by Ron and Hermione. When they returned to the common room, Pansy was already laying across the couch, so they moved toward the desks. Ron and Hermione asked about his art class, and he told them a little about it, briefly showing them the book he'd borrowed. They talked a little more, catching up with each other before retiring for the night.

He was already half-asleep, his curtains open a little, when Draco got into bed.

"Goodnight, Draco," he said sleepily.

"'Night," Draco whispered as he settled beneath the blankets.

X x x X x X x

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who have replied, your support encourage me to keep putting these ideas on paper

**thrnbrooke:** I couldn't reply because you weren't signed in, but I did want to tell you Thanks! It's great to see you, art is definitely turning into Harry's "safe place"

btw with Angel on the cover... you are just too wise ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Author: **chibidraco**  
Beta: **noscrubs12345***  
Rating: R  
Word Count: 4,433  
Warnings: some Harry x Ginny non-explicit  
Summary: The war is over, and things are not as Harry expects, his relationship with Ginny is fractured, his future uncertain and his search for normalcy leads him to Draco Malfoy , for they are bound together by a red string of fate. (HBP and DH complaint, EWE "Eight Year")

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance.  
The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break." - an ancient Chinese belief , prompt from emeraldpanther

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all related characters do not belong to me.

* * *

X x x X x X x

Tuesday morning, the Gryffindors managed to wake up on time and get to Potions without incident. Professor Slughorn was still content to let them brew in peace with the partners of their choice. Harry was sure to keep a low profile in the class, unable to match up to the impressive brewing he'd executed in sixth year without Snape's notes. It wasn't like he wanted the notoriety that would come with it anyway. He'd already given Slughorn enough reason to keep him on that bloody wall of his forever.

One of the benefits of the truce between the two houses was that brewing potions was a lot easier when you were not being sabotaged by items flung into your cauldrons or distracted with insults.

After Potions, both groups joined Hagrid outside his hut for Care of Magical Creatures. Harry was already imagining what kind of beast he'd brought for them, having a lot experience with the man's love for dangerous animals.

When he led them to the pen behind the hut, they were all taken aback to see surprised to see something so innocuous and common as a cluster of kneazles.

There really was not much to be done with a kneazle. They seemed content with lying about in the sun, so Harry let his mind wander, focussing on his upcoming meeting with Malfoy and the fact he still had no idea where to begin.

He thought it might be an ideal time to speak to Hermione and ask for her opinion now that it was only her and Ron. Everyone else was busy gossiping, but when he brought up the topic, Hermione got swept away with a problem of her own.

She was trying to come up with a strategy for getting herself through her partnership with Goyle between pets to her kneazle, and was too busy mumbling and narrowing her eyes at the Slytherin to offer much assistance with his brainstorming. She'd been unable to speak to Goyle the night before. The boy had grunted and gone up to bed as soon as he got into the common room, and neither Harry nor Ron was volunteering to ask for her.

At least his partner wouldn't need to have his hand held every step of the way. From what Harry could recall, Draco always seemed to be a good student, which left Harry with nothing to do but find a book in the library so he could do something in class on Wednesday, but he kept hearing Ron's teeth torturer comment in his head. It occurred to him Malfoy was a pureblood like Ron, and wouldn't have any idea of Muggle occupations. Harry just might have to lead on this assignment. Now he was certain he was terribly unprepared.

"Kneazles. Can you believe it, Harry? After hippogriffs and thestrals, he brings kneazles?" Ron managed to steer the conversation from Hermione's worries.

"It's kind of strange," Harry agreed.

"I, for one, am glad. There are creatures we should simply see in textbooks. Some are far too dangerous for us to have personal experience with. The headmistress probably had a talk with him about it."

"I think you should pick a professor for your project. I mean, you're always lecturing someone." Ron's statement lacked malice, but unfortunately was quite thoughtless. He seemed to realise it when her expression changed. "I mean, because you know so much," he tried to salvage.

"I'm informing you, Ron, not lecturing. Not by a long shot. If I were, I would be telling you how foolish I find your avoiding working with Zabini." That was the last Harry heard as he moved away to avoid the fallout. He knew they loved each other, but they sure did argue a lot.

Harry found watching Hagrid was much better for his state of mind. The half-giant was caught up trying to get the kneazles to play with Lavender. They seemed wary of her for some reason, and the sight of them backing away from the bubbly blonde was sort of comical. Harry felt bad for her because she seemed so saddened by it. Probably because she wanted to coo over them and call them all sorts of appalling nicknames, Harry thought, much as she did to her ex-boyfriend.

Ron was still maintaining his distance from her. It was amusing to see him scurry left and right, especially when Harry caught Hermione smiling when Ron nearly ran into a wall during a particularly evasive manoeuvre.

He was still grinning over the memory of his friend's antics when Ron wandered over to him. "Mate, sometimes I wonder why we like such hard-headed women." Harry followed his gaze to where Hermione was standing.

Harry saw she had cornered Goyle, the Slytherin seemingly uncomfortable and only nodding in agreement to whatever she was saying, probably wary of her rapidly moving hands as she spoke.

"She's just too stubborn. Said she wanted to settle it with Goyle right now and wouldn't let me go with her."

Harry was not too concerned. Hermione could take care of herself, and Neville was close enough to intervene in case Goyle needed to be rescued.

"'Mione just wants to do well."

"What about you? Why are you already working with Malfoy?" His friend looked confused and more than a little concerned.

"I've no idea what I'm going to do, so I might as well get started now," Harry avoided the question about working with Malfoy. He didn't want to push his luck. So far the redhead had managed to keep his complaints about the Slytherin to a minimum. He spotted his Muggle Studies partner propped against a tree a small distance away, his arms crossed and gaze fixed in the distance.

"I don't either," Ron groused, thankfully distracted. "At least we can write about our family lives, and how we'll be brothers. I'll marry 'Mione, you'll marry Ginny. I wonder how much space I could take talking about the whole extended family..."

Harry nodded vaguely, his attention on Malfoy. A kneazle had joined him, and looked intent on grabbing onto his robes with its claws and climbing up the expanse of the boy's thigh.

He was familiar with Draco's fear of threatening beasts, but it seemed cute and cuddly made him uncomfortable as well. His actions reminded him of the awkward manner he'd initially handled Teddy with.

He smothered a laugh.

"What? Okay, fine. Maybe naming the great-grandkids _is_ a bit much," Ron said, and, although Harry had no idea what he was talking about, he agreed.

When he looked back at Malfoy, it seemed he'd given up and was allowing the kneazle to do what it pleased, even patting it gingerly on the head.

"Hey, Harry?" Ron called his name seriously, gaining his full attention.

"About your date tonight. Just remember to be respectful, yeah? You know I love you, mate, but she _is_ my sister." Ron gripped his shoulder.

"Hey, what's with the face? I approve. You're the only guy I could trust to treat Ginny right."

Harry could feel a lump forming in his throat and tried his best to swallow it. The truth was his grimace was not formed from concern of Ron acting in his protective fraternal capabilities, but rather because he'd already forgotten he'd promised to meet Ginny.

X x x X x x X x X

What kind of boyfriend forgets he has a date? He was sure Hermione and Ron would not have let him miss it, but he knew there was something seriously amiss if he'd forgotten in the first place.

He pondered what it meant on his way to art class. As soon as he arrived, he greeted Luna and got to work. The suggestion for the day's lesson was fruit or flowers, and he was grateful for the chance to concentrate on something else.

He could do a bowl of fruit like the one his aunt had hung in her front room.

Harry quickly discarded the idea. Flowers were probably easier to execute, and once he'd made _that _decision, the choice of which flower to paint was obvious.

The Gryffindor went to the bookshelf. He knew he'd seen it the day before...He managed to find it wedged in a corner, triumphantly pulling the book on flower classifications out and taking it back to his desk.

He flipped through its pages until he found the section he needed. There were so many types of lilies, but the water lily was the one he thought he could actually manage.

Recalling the instructions from the book he'd read the day before, he cast the incantation and used his wand to collect blue paint, carefully guiding the colour to pool in sections of the canvas until he'd formed the desired pond.

The green pads were next. Some of them ended up resembling deformed hearts, but they were similar enough to the ones in the book he was satisfied. He washed his brush, carefully cleaning it before reaching for the white paint. Holding his hand steady, and after several false starts, he managed to start his first lily. He focussed on getting the placement of the flower petals as close as possible to the picture.

He'd drawn three and only needed to fill the golden centres of his flowers when he decided to take a break. He was curious to see what strange thing Luna had drawn, and was not disappointed when he spotted the odd looking bouquet posed as if it was washed up on the shore.

"It's a bushel of cauliflower," she answered the unspoken question when she noticed him looking.

"The vegetable?"

"Yes." She grinned, adding detail to a cracked seashell on the sand.

"Don't girls like flowers?" He was not an expert on women, not by a long shot, but he'd always thought flowers were what they liked best.

"I prefer this. Flowers are lovely, but we can only trap them in vases and watch them wither. With this you can admire and then eat it," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Some people eat flowers," he said for no particular reason other than he was in a good mood and feeling a little silly.

"They're not that tasty," she said, not missing a beat, and he couldn't help the grin that spread over his face.

"You know what is, though? Something Dean bought Ginny once and she let me try." She swiped her paint brush against her chin while she mused, leaving peach smudges but she seemed to pay them no mind. "It was made of pineapples shaped liked hearts and flowers. There were even strawberries. It was very nice.

"Much better than flowers," she added, completely convinced edible bouquets were superior.

Harry recognised what she was referring to. He'd seen them in boutique bakery windows before, but he had never had any Muggle money and had known better than to ask his aunt or uncle. It was all about presentation, though, so he doubted it tasted any better than buying the fruits and eating them without all the pomp and circumstance.

Wait. Did he have to bring something for Ginny tonight? With that thought, his previous quandary sprung to mind once more. What was going on with him that he could so casually forget meeting her? He was pants at being a boyfriend, it seemed.

Apparently Dean had been much better. Not only had he given her edible flowers, but Harry remembered he'd taken her on dates, and had even successfully managed to romance her enough it had spurred Ron to fight with his sister over her virtue. Yet here he was completely failing, and, what was worse, not feeling as torn up as he thought he should.

"Luna?"

"Yes, Harry?" The blonde was washing out her brushes and drying them on a cloth, but she set them aside to look at him.

"Do you believe in fate? That people are meant to be?" He regretted his query immediately after he'd made it, but it was too late to take it back. If he were honest with himself, he knew the idea had been planted in his mind after yesterday morning's conversation with Dean, and it had only grown stronger in the hours that followed. Thankfully, she didn't ask why he'd ask, but tilted her a bit as if she was seriously considering the question.

"Hmm. Do you know that a lot of cultures believe in soul mates, Harry?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know much about it, though."

"After my father's unsuccessful trip to Sweden to find the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, he got a lead they were migrating, so we expanded our search to the Orient. There are some amazing creatures in Asia, Harry. Just beautiful..." she trailed off for a moment.

Harry didn't understand what their search for beasts, possibly imaginary ones, had anything to do with fate, but he didn't interrupt. If Luna had been born a Muggle, he wondered, would she be searching for Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster? He almost asked her out of pure curiosity.

"But besides their impressive indigenous fauna, we did come across legends of soul mates in various countries." She nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. "Father actually purchased a textbook containing a spell that could identify yours. The vendor practically gave it away. I don't think he really believed it." She shook her head as if to say 'how silly.'

"But you do?" he asked curiously.

Her smile was sweet, if not a little mysterious. "I think people close themselves to a lot of possibilities. I would have tried to confirm it, but I really have no reason to try it out now."

Harry nodded slowly. It was true Luna had not been involved with anyone romantically in all the years they'd attended Hogwarts, and it was not from her lack of beauty.

He knew the reason lay with the odd things she said, a trait he'd come to appreciate, but there were times, like now, she would mention these fantastical things and people were taken aback, labelling her strange or even loony. He knew she wasn't, though.

But a spell that revealed your soul mate? Could such a thing really exist?

X x x X x x X x X

At Hermione's insistence, he decided to meet up with Ginny outside Gryffindor Tower. She said Ginny would appreciate him picking her up rather than meeting at the lake. Hermione had also offered advice on his clothing (though he refused to change), on what to bring her (though he turned down the idea of bringing her flowers), and a reminder to act natural. All the while, Ron interjected his own advice coloured with encouragement.

Strangely, his friends reminded him more of a parental unit rather than his mates with the way they watched him and urged him on. A part of him expected them to go as far as pinching his cheeks and praising him for being such a good boy.

He wasn't angered by their behaviour; he knew they were only trying to help him. If anything, they were probably reacting to whatever concern Ginny had confided in Hermione.

When he arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, he was filled with joy at the sight. How many laughs had been shared behind that opening? The crazy antics from the twins….That thought sobered him a bit. He wasn't going to experience that particular brand of merrymaking in or out of those rooms again.

"Harry! It's good to see you, love."

"Hello, miss," he replied to the Fat Lady, inclining is head.

"I heard all about your room assignments. Poor dears, after having me all these years. _He's_ bound to be a lot different. How's it going with him as your portrait guardian?"

Even if he had something to say about Snape, he wouldn't tell her, especially after their unofficial truce. He knew she was fishing for information, and that whatever complaint he'd say would run like wildfire from her friend Violet to the rest of the school.

"It's fine." He almost laughed when she looked disappointed.

"Oh, but if you lived here you would be that much closer to your love," she practically cooed, looking happy once more. "But never mind. You'll make it work, and it's sweet you're here to pick her up. Oh, I remember like it was yesterday, watching your father and mother during their own courtship. So sweet they were. Both of you remind me of them, actually. "

He was spared from trying to respond to that when the portrait swung open.

"Harry," Ginny greeted him, stepping out in a nice pair of jeans and a more feminine shirt than the ones she usually wore. She looked nice.

"Hi."

"Go on, you love birds. Enjoy as much time as you can before curfew." The Fat Lady winked at them, giggling behind her hand. He started to turn, eager to get away before she said anything that would make him feel any more awkward.

Ginny hurried to catch up with him, and slipped her hand into his.

There were some people in the hallways, and they were the object of many glances that varied from the sweet looks reminiscent of the encouragement from the Fat Lady to those of indifference. He hoped the portrait didn't get any more enthusiastic about their relationship, but he did want to ask her more about her memories of his parents. He was sure his father had no difficulty wooing his mother. Well, after she changed her mind about him being an arrogant twat, that is.

"They made me captain." Had Ginny been speaking before? He hoped not, but she didn't look upset.

"Good." He gave her a grin. "You deserve it."

"You should try out." Now that they were outside with only the moonlight illuminating the grounds, he couldn't see her as well as before, but he could tell her smile was a mischievous one.

"You just want an excuse to put me through the ringer like Oliver used too," he lightly accused.

"Maybe," she replied with a thoughtful expression, "we can test how well you can dodge those Bludgers."

That made him pause. Although it was delivered in jest, the increased pressure on his hand and the manner in which she delivered it had him seeing himself dodging Bludger after Bludger under the girl's unceasing attack.

Harry cleared his throat. "I think I'd rather cheer the team on," he replied and realised he meant it.

The yearning for the freedom of the skies was still there, but not wrapped up in competition. He'd much rather play for fun like they'd done during the summer. He should actually take some time to sneak away and fly. His broom was securely stored away in his trunk with his invisibility cloak, and the only problem would be getting past Snape. Maybe if he asked nicely?

A sharp pain radiated through his hand, and he shrank back a little when he met Ginny's glare. Now there was no question she wasn't very pleased.

"What?" he squeaked, much to his embarrassment, but it was her turn to be quiet. She didn't speak, just continued walking until they reached the edge of the lake, their hands still joined. He didn't say anything either. She looked pensive, and that worried him a little. Ginny, like her brother, usually didn't spend much time debating what she wanted to say. They were blunt and honest, and Harry liked that about them...most of the time.

He turned his attention to their surroundings instead. The giant squid undulated its tentacles, waving them with no particular rhythm. Harry walked closer to the shoreline of the lake. The hem of his robe was becoming saturated and his trainers had already taken in water, but he didn't mind too much.

He had already made the decision to buy himself a new pair. It was a little embarrassing they were so run down. Not that he cared about what people thought. He wasn't about to buy something fancy like Malfoy's shoes to impress anyone, but he was reasonably sure he didn't want his toes peeking through the tops of the fabric.

"What is it you want from me, Harry?" The question was sudden, and would have stopped him in his tracks even if Ginny hadn't pulled on his hand to keep him from moving.

It almost felt like an accusation. His brow furrowed in concern. "Nothing."

"Exactly," she said softly to herself, letting go of his hand. It fell back against his side.

"That's the problem. It feels like you don't ask anything from me." She crossed her arms over her chest, and stepped back to put more distance between them.

What was she talking about? He knew if people asked nothing of him he would have been relieved. Why did she look like he was doing something terrible?

"I don't understand," he said finally, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"I do," she answered shortly, drawing herself a little taller. "You don't ask because there is nothing I can give you." With that last comment, she walked away, leaving him alone at the lakeside.

He knew he should run after her, but he couldn't make his body move. His brain screamed for him to take action, but his heart had nothing to offer. She was dear to him, and he didn't want to make it worse by pursuing her and offering her nothing.

What _did_ he want from her?

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, bringing his knees to his chest.

Harry could recognise he wanted a lot of things, including a purpose and some clarification on what his world had become. He'd returned after fighting for so long, relieved most of them had made it, hurt others had not, and nothing had been the same.

Even the food seemed to taste different. The people were all a changed. _He_ was changed. Was that where the answer lay? Had he changed so much his relationship with Ginny no longer carried the promise of "happily ever after" it had before?

He sat, conflicted by his thoughts until the alarm on Hermione's watch went off in his pocket. She'd given it to him with a smile.

"So you don't get in trouble by missing curfew," she'd explained.

Harry got to his feet, reluctantly making his way back into the castle.

He was not looking forward to the inevitable questions.

* * *

A/N: I've been wrapped up in exams, but I should have more time to update next week :D


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